


Changeling (Síofra)

by CocoMingo



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Christianity, F/F, Fae & Fairies, Fluff, Historical Accuracy, Lemons, Lots of Mythology, Magical Pregnancy, Malora Babies, Middle Ages, Moors Family, Paganism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-02-06 19:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 43
Words: 142,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1869987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CocoMingo/pseuds/CocoMingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years have passed since King Stefan's War on the Fair Folk and their Protector was declared void by his daughter. The kingdom flourishes, as does the love between Queen Aurora of Dál Riata and the faerie Maleficent of the Highland Moors.</p><p>(Moors Family, Malora babies, original characters and faerie lore, full steam ahead.) Also posted over at FF.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ar Aer (On Airs)

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: This is an Aurora/Maleficent story. By this, I mean Malora; very explicitly Malora. I don’t consider Aurora to be underage at the end of the movie/story, as we’re talking about a story Universe that mimics our Universe’s Middle Ages – Renaissance. 16 year old girls were married off, had babies, end of story. If it didn’t bother you in 1959 when Sleeping Beauty came out, it shouldn’t bother you now. Frankly, it bothers me when people are shipping Underage like it’s cool. If the hint of same-sex relations or fluff gives you the heebies, I’m not sorry: There’s the door. 
> 
> Our first chapter is set a bit into the future and the following chapters will be written in alternating flashbacks and future sets, I hope. You’ll notice some AU Fae/Fairy lore interwoven into this story, as well as some reference to the other ‘Sleeping Beauty’ stories and OCs. Reads and reviews VERY appreciated. XOXO, Readers.

Aurora laid back against the fluff that humans of her realm considered to be “pillows,” and groaned. Maleficent had often said that they were indeed soft as a cloud, but horrendously bad for posture. True enough, when she awoke this morning at a quite unseemly hour, her back and front had ached very badly. Her faery was nowhere to be found, and Aurora’s sighing loudly did not make that tenaciously ruby smile appear behind the dressing screen. It was unusual for Maleficent to venture too far from Aurora’s open window and widow’s walk when they stayed in the palace, though it was unfortunately typical that she would wander here and then, too fidgety still in this “palace of horrors.” Six years later, copious jobs and economy created in beautifying and restoring the grounds and castle to their former glory… and all Maleficent could see outside of Aurora’s bedchambers was dank, sharp, burning cold iron. It had been shipped and sold to a northern kingdom long ago, truth be told; just one more of Aurora’s intelligent ways to make capital on her father’s ignorance and ruin.

 

It was a slight bone of contention for the peaceful pair that Maleficent did not hide her nervousness of her surroundings from the humans, or rather that she couldn’t. Aurora hummed at a long ago memory, of when she accused and hurled the hurtful words at her love.

 

 _“Why can’t you just stop putting on airs, and making such disgusted faces at every change I make? I try to ask you for your opinion, but all they see is the disdain and coldness in your eyes. This is your home too!”_ Aurora had all but shouted.

 

She vaguely recalled stomping her foot, and chuckled at that. She had been a headstrong seventeen, a maiden coming into her womanhood. Nearly anything set her off during that year.

 

“And just what has you so glowing this morning that mere silence has elicited you to laugh, my pet?” a voice with unmistakable timbre invaded the shell of Aurora’s right ear, the cool faery breath buffeting the curls laid behind enough to make her shudder in delight and surprise.

 

“I was just remembering how bloody awful I was every one in my seventeenth year, especially you…” she whispered, doe-eyed in an attempt to appear apologetic, even years later.

 

There was a slightly hard edge to Maleficent’s reply. “Will you _please_ pardon yourself? I cannot stand the self flagellation any longer.” Her ivory cloaked arm raised across her forehead in a feign of human emotion; aghast perhaps? Agape? Agog? She began to chuckle herself, and let her arm fall slowly and elegantly to her side. Such silly words for emotions so fleeting these humans had!

 

Her large grin suddenly fell into a surprised ‘oh,’ and the groove between her eyebrows deepened. She sought to press it out with her thumb, only to stay her hands at her side and take a deep breath.   Faeries were not quick to emote, but her Beastie often brought out the worst, and best in her. Beastie was now sobbing into her hands, snotting and snuffling about like a toddler. The gasps coming from the younger woman were heartrendingly familiar, and it reminded Maleficent how her heart had felt for many years. How fleetingly humans felt – but how deeply. It was something that amazed her, and she surmised would never stop.

 

“Darling, hush…” her lush lips drew out the “Shhhhhh…” so that it sounded like a soothing gesture, but in truth Maleficent was attempting not to clack her teeth together, gnash them a bit, all in an attempt to not join the crying. “The words I said then, all those years ago…I didn’t mean them. I didn’t mean to say this wasn’t my home, or that it was an ugly monstrosity of doom. I just meant to say that _you_ are my home – whether here or in the Moors.” Maleficent stopped to think a moment, taking a silent and deep breath when Aurora kept on her sniveling. Honesty paired with a bit of romanticism could either break an argument or cause a war between humans. Though she was indeed not the same as her Beastie, she endeavored to keep her Aurora’s heart in mind.

 

The Fair Folk had no qualms about speaking plainly, and her sweet had grown to see this over time. She’d also come to learn that while Maleficent would never outright lie, she would stretch the truth as far as it would go to protect her dignity and privacy. “I would have said anything logical that day to hide the fact that I am indeed afraid of this place. My mind has made up that it is safe, but my body can’t seem to grasp it quite yet. Perhaps my wings hold a grudge?” A little humor never hurt to enter levity into a situation such as this. Seven hells, her woman was crying all for naught and nothing she said seemed to help. Did her Aunt Ulla forget to pay her Tithe to Hades when she was born? She pursed her lips and thought the evil woman might have done on purpose, for Aurora sobbed even harder.

 

She had one last gambit, a play she didn’t often use because it reminded her of when Aurora was younger, and she merely her Lady Protector – and not both lover and protector, proper. Tamping down her guilt that would sometimes creep into her stomach when she sang her lullaby, she cleared her throat to inflect a more sultry pallor to the song. Let it be known, she was not singing this for some wailing babe. Well, she smirked as she gathered her love against the ridiculous fluff atop her bed, curling the golden woman against her breast…at least not a wailing _infant._ She furled her wings about them, cuddling closer.

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream…I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam…” She paused momentarily as she heard a snuffle and a sigh come from beneath her wings. “And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you'll do…” An even deeper exhale was sounded; a squeeze of arms was around her waist. “You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.” She tried not to be discomfited at the gentle rocking motion she felt against her body. Close as they were, Maleficent was unsure if it was she rocking, or Aurora. Independent as the Fae were, such mimicry of childish comfort between lovers still felt odd, though not entirely unwanted. She loved her Beastie, odd or not.

 

Many had thought them odd for their pairing. Stefan's kingdom had long been regarded as a bastion of propriety, though perhaps too much. Neighboring kingdoms and city states often thought the land acted holier-than-thou in response to it's borders being trussed by the Moors to the North, known for it's magic and natural affinity for free love, and Ulaidh to the South. Thank the gods and goddesses that Phillip's older brother Tristan had been lost, or some nonsense. The shyer, more regal and polite Prince had stepped up to become King, and stopped his ridiculous courting of Aurora. 

For all her patience, Maleficent couldn't explain to Aurora's courtiers that she meant not to sully their beloved Queen with her love. Theirs was an equal love, a stable partnership, and a true affinity. She decided she would show them, in her own way, how true it was.

 

The littlest things spoke volumes to those that watched them over the years: the gentle touch of a hand to an elbow at pausing to look at a ladybug on a rose. Calling her beautiful Queen "My Rose," whenever in earshot of those not privy to their more base and true pet names. While wary at first, the court soon took a deep breath. Happy that their shining Queen had not been married off to some strange, faraway kingdom, they had even taken to calling Aurora "Queen of the Roses" while in residence at the Castle, and Maleficent "Queen of the Briars," after the Wall that used to surround the Moors. She loathed to think of what in the heavens Aurora's subjects would think of what they called each other while in private. Surely, she could not call her Beastie in front of them, nor could Aurora call out…

 

“Malle.” So soft, it was nearly a whisper. Maleficent might have thought her keen ears had misheard, but she felt the warm breath on her breastbone. She thought the nickname dignified, akin to her Aunt Ulla’s name, and less of the awful conglomeration the beast had laden the innocent child with for “daring to kill her precious sister.” In all honesty, who names a child Maleficent and curses her with horns for eternity? In human language, her name meant ‘malicious.’ In Fae, it meant ‘destroyer of reputations,’ or ‘sinful.’ Clearing her throat served a dual purpose now; to clear the tears forming in her eyes, and to let Aurora know that she acknowledged her name. Her new name, which meant ‘rebellious,’ or even ‘beloved,’ or even still… ‘wished for child.’ Had she ever been wished for?

 

Rustling inside her feathers was the glowing being that she had wished for, and Maleficent smiled gently down at the inquisitive and still so precious face of her lover. Aurora thought to steel her face into a conversational repose, but Maleficent knew better. “Yes, my deepest and most darling wish?”

 

Aurora’s cheeks reddened at her term of endearment. “Enough of your faery flirting now. “ A smile graced her now relaxed face, which for a moment seemed confused and recalled it had only just been tear stained. “I am sorry…” she winced as Maleficent’s left eyebrow raised in consternation for that phrase.   “I was remiss in telling you why I was crying. I know you are confused. Truthfully, so am I.” A tired and almost relieved look fell upon Aurora then, as she admitted she did not know why her emotions were in such an upheaval.

 

“I haven’t been sleeping well; I am awaking when you take your morning flights. Too early…and my stomach and back hurt…” she cradled her rounded belly, softened by love and care, and too many sweets while sitting at desks all day. “The doctors say I’ve a woman’s temperament, and that my lady bits are politely reminding me that our kingdom needs an Heir. They told me I have the hysteria! Isn’t that ever so odd?” Aurora barked out, her eyes gleaming a bit madly. Maleficent watched closely, and winced in anticipation. Here came the wail.

 

“Whhhh….aaaat’s wrrrrong wif’me?!” Aurora nearly shrieked. “I cannot _bear_ it!”

 

Maleficent smiled a knowing smile. The doctors were indeed correct. Her Beastie was in mating season, as most humans were once or so a month from their teens until their dusk years. She had smelled her lover’s scent on and off for years, relishing as it grew deeply with her age. Of course, she didn’t often mention such a thing to Aurora. Such truthful, blasé Fae sexual talk sent her lover into titters, which she often had to smooth over with kisses. Lots of kisses…not that she minded. She’d never told Aurora, even when she was in rut. It seemed an indelicate thing to discuss until the time was right. Tucking Aurora’s head below her chin, Maleficent took a deep breath of her love’s heady scent about her hair.

 

“My Rose… Though indecent to mention to you in such a degrading way, the dear doctors are correct.” Maleficent did not smile at this pronouncement as Aurora bobbed quickly up from her wings. They buffeted back against the bed, twitching a bit, surprised at the boldness of their dismissal. “ _Now dear_ … Let’s talk frankly about this. You are in your twenty-second year, and you do mention adoring the townsfolk babes as we fly home. Does your heart _crave_ to have a wee bairn?”

 

Aurora’s mouth moved open and closed, the perfect bow of her lips stretched in awe or consternation, Maleficent wasn’t sure. She was sure that she shouldn’t compare her lover to a codfish at the moment, even in jest. She filed that joke for later.

 

“A baby? A baby for us?” Aurora wondered aloud. “How is that even possible?” Maleficent wiggled her fingers at Aurora, grinning wildly like a cat who got the cream. Pursing her lips together and nearly rolling her eyes, Aurora stopped the playfulness before it got out of hand. “Oh, stop. If your fingers do the work, then mayhaps we’d have a nursery full of bonny lasses by now.” She huffed a golden blond curl out of her face inelegantly.

 

“I didn’t say it was _just_ my fingers.” Maleficent chortled. “I do magic with these fingers.”

 

Now Aurora truly rolled her eyes. “Of course you do, Malle. Both inside and outside of our bedchambers.”

 

Maleficent’s smiled dropped. She wanted to discuss this topic seriously with her Queen. A little levity was good, but it was getting them off track. She took up Aurora’s hands into her own and sat them upright. “Aurora…” using her full name to gain sincerity, “I am being truthful. The Fair Folk have their share of sexual relations, but as we’re spirit beings, preternatural… Any Fae can have a baby. We can impregnate ourselves, though it’s frowned upon. It wouldn’t do a Fae child good to only have one protector. We invoke magic to place a part of us into our love. Once done, it can never be revoked.” Her throat grew dry on that last statement. A flash crossed her mind. _‘this curse will last until the end of time…no power on earth can change it…’_ She shook her head, and steadied her heart. She would never again use magic to harm her love. She would rather cast herself into the depths of the Earth, never to again see _Tir na nÓg_ at her End of Days.

Aurora’s breathing quickened to near hyperventilation as she threw her arms around Maleficent and suddenly kissed her with abandon. “Truly!? A baby? Would it look like me or you? Would it have wings? Will it be a faery or human?” The questions came spilling out in a stream, much like the bubbling creek that the wallerbogs’ mud wallow was next to. Maleficent held her long index finger to Aurora’s soft pink lips in a request for deference.

 

“There are other rituals that must be performed. Well, more like traditions.” The faery added slyly, “You must partake of some of my food in the Moors, after I have _kidnapped_ you!” she added excitedly.

 

Aurora stared in amusement at her lover. Maleficent was almost never this animated, unless angry. She snickered quietly into her hand.

 

“Beastie, are you laughing at my traditions?” Maleficent questioned, her wings deflating a bit behind her, until their ends dragged onto the floor beside the bed, rather sadly.

 

“No! _No_ , my darling one. I am just overjoyed to see you so happy about this.” Aurora quipped, and smiled broadly.

 

A knock loudly thumped at the Queen’s bedchamber door. Maleficent swept up to answer it, it being she who was properly dressed at such a late hour in the morning. As it was, her Beastie and she had been conversing for near to an hour. Surely, it was a worried handmaiden. Ah, but she could dress, and undress her Beastie. Opening the larger privacy peep hole in the door, she came face to face with the Doctor, who sputtered upon seeing Maleficent behind the Queen’s door at such an hour. He’d never quite gotten used to their pairing, being an older man and a conservative one at that.

 

“Yes, Maester Doctor?” Maleficent’s tone brooked no argument: he was interrupting something important.

 

“Yes, well…My Queen’s Lady Protector…” he stammered nervously, hand curling his long beard under, “I’ve come to attempt to relieve some of the Queen’s symptoms. You see, there are some techniques that can be done…”

 

Gods above, this man! Disgust raged across Maleficent’s face. _Techniques?_ For hysteria? On _her_ Beastie? She slammed the peep hole shut in his face, only to open it back up immediately while barking “ _I think not_ , good Maester! Good day!” and slammed it firmly shut once more.

 

Stomping back towards a startled Aurora, she quickly swept her out of bed and into her arms. Aurora let out a shriek of excitement. “Where are we going?!”

 

Maleficent yelled loudly as she launched out the window to all that could hear. “I’m a Faerie, come to ‘nap your Human Queen and take her to my Moors! She will eat and drink of what is mine and become mine forever more!” With that, she turned and gazed at her amazed Queen, who had chosen that moment to peep and squeak in surprise and desire.

 

Maleficent’s cool, though noticeably passionate laughter was heard through the kingdom their entire flight there. As they passed over the farmsteads of the older generations who knew her father, Lysander, they smiled in joy. Especially the women, for though they had always dreamed he would come for their crackers and sweet cakes left out and take them in the night, he had taken Hermia – the blonde maiden from down the lane.


	2. An Bheannacht, agus an Mhallacht (The Blessing and the Curse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I hope you all enjoyed my introductory chapter. This chapter contains a fair amount of Scottish Gaelic and Highlands slang. Translations are in the footnotes for your reference/ease of reading. As always, reviews are very appreciated! XOXO, readers!

Maleficent snuck out of her Rowan tree in the early dawn, slipping down the ancient trunk with ease on her nature-hardened feet. Moving with a grace only capable by the slow wafting of her wings to keep her feet barely aloft of the ground, she attempted to get close enough to the Gem Pool without too many faery guardians noticing. Though she may be the Guardian of the Moors, she still fell under it’s symbiotic understandings.

The Fae hesitated to call them ‘rules,’ which were more likely named such when an order came from the Seelies or Unseelies once a century or so. Maleficent herself had never seen the Seelie court, and didn’t wish to. They typically didn’t appear until they had something to say, or a judgement to pass.

Judgement had been passed on her Aunt Ulla and Uncle Kinloch when she was nearly ten, in retribution for her Aunt’s unfair curse of Maleficent’s horns for eternity, and their negligence in their duties as King and Queen. The humans in their eternal struggle had murdered Maleficent’s parents, the true King and Queen.

Shuddering, she remembered the day when she arrived back at the Rowan tree, orphaned again. In their justice, the Seelies had deemed fit to burn Ulla and Kinloch in their own Rowan tree, a punishment accidentally hinted upon when Maleficent had hurled a fireball at her Aunt when she wanted to kill a crow that she had saved.

 

She’d ducked it that day, her Aunt. But, nothing could duck the Seelie. You didn’t see them coming, but they _always_ saw you.

 

As Maleficent crouched over the small pool, she stared into the cave that lead inside the large Sidhe mound that her people used to live in before the Fae decided to fight back against the humans in this kingdom. True, the Moors stretched beyond three days’ flight, but there it ended and Man’s World began. There, faeries hid in mounds, underground, under the water… Without direct supervision, they often caused a ruckus for the humans, whether in boredom or retaliation, Maleficent couldn’t be sure.

The Seelie didn’t care about the humans, so it largely went unnoticed in her world. Such behavior was the bane of the human-faery conflict, however. Short lived though humans may be, their invention and use of paper made it easy for their ideas and stories to be spread. The Fae would never harm a tree for something as small as a story that could be relayed by mouth. Their written language, which the humans called Elvish, was reserved specifically for ‘rules,’ and ‘bindings.’ Very rarely used, indeed.

She smirked – the humans called the large Tuatha faeries like Maleficent ‘winged elves,’ though they were most certainly not. The Fae allowed the humans their misguided beliefs – the better it was they not have the truth.

 

“Robin…” she whispered, her hand tracing the still water of the pond. As her fingertips began to graze a green stone lit from within, a small fairy appeared to her right side. The little gnome and his family liked living in the Sidhe, as most gnomes liked to stay hidden. Robin had watched over her when her parents had died, protecting Maleficent and teaching her history and languages, how to control her emotions and how to heal flora and fauna.

 

“Aye, my crabbit?[1]” Robin smiled, removing his cap of hollyhock and holding it nervously between his hands. He had nearly raised this woman, but to tease her some days was akin to poking a badger with a spoon. When she did not screech or raise her eyebrow at him, he figured today was a good day, and that she’d respect her elders. “’Twas aboot to go tattie howkin. Ya kin?”[2]

 

“No, thank you, Robin. Though, if you could pick a few for Aurora and I, I’d be most grateful,” she replied, shifting so that she sat on the banks, her wings dancing across the water to make skittering patterns that teased the Ashray water faeries forced beneath the surface by the rising sun.

Her Aurora loved to play with them at night, when they made beautiful rainbows dance across the waters. “I need to ask another favour, though.” She turned her eyes towards him, the pupils dancing warily in nervousness.

 

“Donnae greet or get het aboot it.[3] Say it, then,” he teased.

 

“Aurora and I wish for a bairn.” Maleficent replied, quiet as the wind on the Moors.

 

“Ye wish far a bairn or a wee wain[4]? I kin send wan of the Boobries to kitch a human babe.” Robin replied excitedly… and loudly.

The Boobries, floating nearby over the bluff, began to fly over. Clucking their beaks together, they reminded Robin that the baby would need to be near water, a rare occurrence for humans that young. They couldn’t snatch a baby on land. ‘Would a toddling babe do?’ they clucked.

 

“Haud yer wheesh! Gonny no shout sae loud!”[5] Maleficent quickly covered Robin’s mouth with her hand, hoping the gnome wouldn’t take offense. “I don’t wish to _steal_ anyone’s child. I wish to bind Aurora to make our _own_.”

 

The male Boobrie and Robin met each others’ eyes. While most Fae used a piece of their bound spirits placed inside another that they loved to procreate, it was known that it was somewhat difficult for a Tuatha fae to do it correctly... _or_ completely. It was something to do with their slightly negative nature, or perhaps their consistent stretching of the Law of Truth.

Maleficent caught their exchange, and tears began to prick at her eyes. “I’ve done everything by the Book so far, Robin. I’ve ‘napped her. She came willingly. She loves me. She’s asleep in the Rowan now.”

Her reaching arms pointed airily to the majestic tree that stood at the top of the bluff before falling flat in her lap. Her chin began to quiver, and so she tucked it down against her chest firmly and clenched her jaw. “I need to steal some human food they’ve left for me on the edge of the moors and bless their little farm. I need to perform the exchange in order for the magic needed. I know how it’s done.”

 

“Aye, it’s aw richt, hen. Ye kin steal my athol brose for Aurora.”[6] Robin offered, about to head back into his hovel to fetch it.

 

“You know it has to be human food. Human food offered to me in order for the exchange of a blessing. Only then, can a fae like me be blessed.” Maleficent smiled and shook her head.

 She knew that was how her parents had been able to conceive her, and why her Aunt and Uncle remained childless. Her father loved to bless the farms that edged the Moors, but there was only Maleficent. ‘How many times had he blessed the Humans in order to get the Blessing for me?’ she wondered.

Her Aunt and Uncle hated the humans, and frankly, her. She was glad they did not have a cousin that would most likely have tormented her, too. “Where in this kingdom would someone still leave sweet cakes for a faery?”

 

“Iffin’ it’s you we’re talkin aboot, kin…” Robin trailed off, “Ye might look up your bahookie. You was a right besom to ta humans.”[7] Maleficent chuckled in reply, but there was no humour in it. Robin was right – she might as well go looking there for all the luck she had ever bestowed upon Aurora’s race.

 

“I’d best be off then. I surmise I’ll need to walk the entire length of farms along the Moors even get a glimpse of sweet cake.” Maleficent smiled, and rose to height.

Leaping upwards, her strong wings fanning out to hold her aloft, she turned back towards Robin and the Boobrie. “Tell Aurora when she wakes that I’m checking the perimeters. Try not to give my intentions away?”

With a tenacious swish of her golden brown wings, she was above the clouds and headed towards the border in a flash.

 

The Boobrie clacked his beak at Robin, ‘Doesn’t she know she’s to wear white when she does the spell?’

Robin murmured back, “Iffin’ she finds a sweet cake, I’s tell her the birds ‘n the bees myself.”

 

Without warning, Diaval fluttered into sight, and on a branch near the two. He cawed in question as to where his mistress had gone.

 

“Dinnae fash yersel, corbie. It’s eechie ochie, today," the gnome laughed. [8]

 

* * *

 

 

“Help ma Boab!”[9] the elderly woman screeched, as she fell back onto her bum. Water from her buckets sloshed everywhere, and the sight made her want to burst. She thought she had spied a faery come out the Moors, and not just any Fae. A large Tuatha fae; the only one of which survived in these parts was Maleficent.

 

Maleficent was indeed present, having scuttled quickly back into the treeline as she had frightened the woman. She had flown for hours, searching for a farmer this close to her lands. This old human woman was the closest she’d been able to get, and judging from her clothing, she was a farmer’s wife.

 

“I’m very sorry,” she said calmly, but firmly from the forest edge. “May I emerge without frightening you again?”

 

The farmers’ wife frowned. She’d rather not parlay with Maleficent, ever. But, she’d never say no to one of the Fair Folk. She’d never known any human to refuse them, short of the snobby royalty who had sought to destroy them and ruin the farm’s blessings. Seven hells on them, she spit the silent curse to the ground.

 

“Aye Lady Protector…” she wouldn’t give away the fact that she suspected Maleficent’s identity quite so soon. One had to be careful with the Fae, and hold your cards upsleeve. “You speak the Plain Talk? I am called Gianna.”

 

“Yes, I do speak Plain. No need to speak Highland Moorish with me.” Maleficent joked. Though she would have preferred it, speaking her language with humans was a laughing experience. Even after thousands of years, most humans butchered the pronounciation. “I come to Bless your lands. May I approach?”

 

“Of course you may,” Gianna breathed a sigh of relief. Before she could end her sentence, Maleficent was upon her, lifting her up with her strong, but thin hands.

Long fingers curled around the woman’s soft and chubby ones. ‘How similar and how at odds the People and Fae are, ‘she mused.

“But why should you Bless my farm, My Lady? I have not left you a sacrifice from my kitchen.”

 

“Ahh…yes, about that,” the faery spoke almost too quietly for her old ears to catch. “I thought I might begin the transaction. Many are so afraid of the Fair Folk now; the usual response is not to welcome us back to your fields with cakes and treats. Did you bake today?” She couldn’t keep the glimmer of hope out of her last question, her mouth salivating in anticipation.

 

“Aye, I did my Lady, sweet bean cakes, with coddled milk to top it. Would you like some?”

 

“Mayhaps you have some honey, too?” Maleficent’s wings gave away her passion for sweets, dithering about in a clear discordance with her calm and serene face.

 

Gianna smiled at that. It was hard to believe that Maleficent was only nearing her fourth decade, if she remembered anything about Lysander. “Your father liked honey too, my Lady. I daresay I would tease him about his fang-teeth falling out by the time he was ninety.” Of course, Lysander’s rear teeth wouldn’t have ever fallen out, and he looked thirty if a day when she had said it to him, so very long ago.

 

Maleficent grew preternaturally still at the mention of her father’s memory, but replied politely. “Perhaps we shall dine and talk, rather than dash as I had anticipated.”

 

Yes, she would spend the morning with the human woman, and glean what she could about the man who she only remembered as having black hair and her green-yellow eyes; that, and his sweet laughter.

 

[1] Crabbit – ill-tempered person

[2] Twas aboot to go tattie howkin. Ya kin? – I was just about to go digging for potatoes. Are you in?

[3] Donnae greet or get het aboot it. – Don’t cry or act agitated about it.

[4] Bairn – Baby. Wee wain – Small child, toddler, weaned baby.

[5] Haud yer wheesh! Gonny no shout sae loud! – Shut up, and (are you going to) stop shouting so loudly.

 

[6] It’s aw richt, hen. – It’s all right, woman. Athol brose – sweet oatmeal, sometimes baked.

[7] Look up your bahookie – Look up your arse. Right besom – Literally, good broom. A witch.

[8] Dinnae fash yersel, corbie. It’s eechie ochie, today. – Don’t bother yourself, raven. It’s none of your concern/not your business today.

[9] Help ma Boab! – Goodness, gracious! (literally, ‘help my private parts!’)


	3. An dhá Crainn (The Two Trees)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Herein contains smut. Lemons. Citrus. Ye’ be warned. If you’d like to listen to Loreena McKennitt sing “The Stolen Child,” and "The Two Trees," they're available on YouTube. They are originally the works of William Butler Yeats, which are public use. 
> 
> “Soundtrack” for this chapter:  
> \- “The Stolen Child,” and “The Two Trees,” by Loreena McKennitt 
> 
> Reads and reviews cherished! XOXO, readers.

Aurora played with the Geancanach fire fairies that lit up the grove beneath Maleficent’s great rowan tree. In the moonlight, they looked like fireflies from afar, but they let her get close enough to see that they were indeed somewhat humanlike in appearance, though with more insect qualities, like large eyes and clear, brittle looking wings. As she danced around, they would swirl ‘round her arms, choreographing their own waltz. It was a welcome sight indeed for the faery, whom had finally returned from weaving spells along the countryside.

 

Once Gianna’s farm was laden with rich, green grasses that would fertilize the soil when turned over, and her water well was near overflowing, Maleficent had broken bread with her. The farmer’s wife’s sweet bean cakes had been eaten with honey, not coddled milk. If she licked her teeth hard enough, she might get the taste of it again. Her left hand strayed to her pouch, wrapped around her waist and bosom in a figure-eight fashion over her ivory silk gown. It would be difficult not to eat it before she fed it to Aurora, but sacrifices had to be made. She huffed in her mind. There would be more sweet cakes another day, if Gianna’s neighbors had anything to say about it. They’d come for miles, after seeing Gianna’s fallow fields bloom anew before their eyes while shepherding their sheep. Word was moving quickly – the lands were Blessed once more.

 

Hidden by the rushes near the Gem Pool, she crouched to watch the dance, and relax a moment. Maleficent was rarely fatigued, but good magick was always harder than the bad. She had erased a lot of her own hatred cast upon those fields today, imbuing the scattered stones with radiance as she stacked them back into walls lining the sheep pens and pathways. Gianna’s clap was so resoundingly happy, it reminded her of Aurora’s own when she was presented with a special sweet. Yes, she had done well today.

 

She could hide easily from Aurora, but Robin peered backwards with one eye, even as he tapped his foot in time with the fae who danced with her love now. Grinning like a sod, he elbowed his mate Talise, who turned and winked at Maleficent. Talise lifted her voice high and light above the cove, singing a song that Maleficent thought she’d long forgotten.

 

Where dips the rocky highland  
Of sleuth wood in the lake  
There lies a leafy island  
Where flapping herons wake  
The drowsy water-rats  
There we've hid our faery vats  
Full of berries  
And of reddest stolen cherries

 

A flash of fire faeries fluttering closer to Aurora’s hair made a halo of light around the woman. Entranced and nearly drunken on the stream of Life that existed in the Moors, the Queen’s hips swayed with her hands aloft.

 

Come away, O human child  
To the waters and the wild  
With a faery, hand in hand  
For the world's more full of weeping  
Than you can understand.

 

Eyes widened, Maleficent stood rooted to her hiding spot. She wasn’t sure she could move, if she wanted to.   Her father used to sing this song, and she knew it was a lullaby about stealing away the humans’ babes when they were wee, before the world turned them evil. Children’s spirits made the very _best_ Fae.

 

‘Where the wave of moonlight glosses  
The dim grey sands with light  
By far off furthest Rosses  
We foot it all the night  
Weaving olden dances  
Mingling hands and mingling glances  
Till the moon has taken flight  
To and fro we leap  
And chase the frothy bubbles  
Whilst the world is full of troubles  
And is anxious in its sleep.

 

Her father had been one such child; a changeling. It was part of why he had stolen his maiden from the human world. Out of spite, his brother Kinloch had done the same, but Aunt Ulla had already been bespoilt by the human world after grieving her missing sister for years. She was a cruel and ruthless faery. Maleficent shivered; the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. She had learned much with the old human Gianna today. Closing her eyes and centering her heart to calm, she reminded herself, ‘Never again.’

 

Where the wandering water gushes  
From the hills above Glen-Car  
In pools among the rushes  
That scarce could bathe a star  
We seek for slumbering trout  
And whispering in their ears  
Give them unquiet dreams  
Leaning softly out  
From ferns that drop their tears  
Over the young streams

 

Maleficent blushed at the lyrics then, as she knew she was rooted to a very similar spot that the olden lullaby spoke of. She wouldn’t steal a child tonight, though she felt like she was stealing something. Embarrassment that her courtship to put her Queen in the family way was on clear display with the denizens of the Moors clouded her senses for a moment, until Aurora’s clear soprano rose above all, singing with Talise, until Talise abruptly stopped.

 

Away with us he's going  
The solemn-eyed  
He'll hear no more the lowing  
Of the calves on the warm hillside  
Or the kettle on the hob  
Sing peace into his breast  
Or see the brown mice bob  
Round and round the oatmeal chest.  
For he comes, the human child  
To the waters and the wild  
With a faery, hand in hand  
For the world's more full of weeping  
Than you can understand.’

 

As Aurora stopped her singing, she spun to a stop directly in front of the rushes and gasped in surprise. Staring back at her were two eyes afire with passion and love. Puffing her chest out and standing taller than the reeds she’d crouched behind just now, Maleficent curled her left wing around Aurora. “Come, my Rose. Let us goodnight.”

 

Any lady worth her curtsey knew that a proffered hand should be accepted, no matter if she was in need of assistance. Though, when her love held out her delicate hand, long fingers splayed in welcome… Aurora felt the mood shift. Here was desire; here was the taking. Maleficent swiftly leapt up into the branches near their tree house in the center of the great tree, reaching her hands down to pull Aurora up. There were none of the typically gentle snickers, as she would have attempted to scrabble her way up the bark in her ungainly, un-winged form. She was feeling suddenly _very_ cherished.

 

“You were gone awfully long today, Malle. Were the borders quite that interesting?” Aurora jested as she began to unlace the underarm seams to her gown. Normally, she felt like a clumsy bird flapping her short, elbow tipped wings as she did so. Tonight, she felt sensual, her emotions showing on her dewy face, mouth slackened with _that_ look she knew drove her lover off a cliff.

 

Still, faster than she could blink, Maleficent had unlaced her pouch and kirtle, throwing the kirtle up into the leaf covered branch “roof.” An infuriated ‘caw!’ was driven back at her, and without looking backward at her raven friend, Maleficent ordered “Out.” Her tone brooked no argument. As Diaval leapt out of the rowan, the faery reached up to the branches to clasp a clutch of rowanberries. These were poisonous to Aurora, but they would serve well for Maleficent to eat during their shared incantation.

 

Reaching forward to Aurora’s dress, Maleficent made short work of the side laces and began to lift the skirt upwards, all the while smiling quite smugly.

 

“I’ll thank you not to look at me so lasciviously!” Aurora squealed as a sharp taloned finger crept its way up her thigh.

 

Maleficent’s eyes grew wide, as she withdrew her hand quick as fire. “Oh…Oh,” she tutted, looking quite uncomfortable. Aurora turned her head a degree, puzzling this display of emotion out. Suddenly, she was flat on her back, with her protector everywhere above her. Wings curled behind her, and hands clasped her wrists. A laugh that sent a coil of heat to Aurora’s center sounded.

 

Finally, Maleficent spoke again. “Oh, _dear_. I don’t think I can abide by your request, your Majesty.”

 

Suddenly serious, she sat upwards and her wings flagged out to her sides. Aurora wasn’t sure that she could keep up with this mercurial display, but she smiled at the innocence of her usually so staid partner.

 

“I’ve a present for you, my shining star. Will you partake of this cake I’ve won from the humans, in exchange for the Blessing I’ve given unto their lands?” Maleficent unwrapped the cake gently from its cheesecloth, like it was gold. It was worth more than gold to her, tonight.

 

Aurora merely beamed in response, opening her berry-stained lips. She had been in the berry bushes earlier, Maleficent was sure. Her slender fingers deposited a piece of the cake onto the Queen’s tongue, which whisked the food into her mouth.

 

Maleficent’s wings twitched. She wasn’t sure she was patient enough to finish the incantation before pouncing upon her pet again, but she must wait. Hands that rarely trembled reached for the rowanberries and put them into Aurora’s loose hand. “Feed me these now, and try to feel _everything_ in your heart for me. Love, amusement, affection…All of it, as deep as your soul goes,” she commanded. The berries slipped easily down her throat, and once she’d made sure to swallow all of the juice so that it did not affect Aurora, she kissed her maiden soundly.

 

Hugging each other tightly, hands roved, seeking pleasures they had often sought before. Aurora’s hands traced the outline where Maleficent’s wings met her sharp scapulae, dragging along their outline to her strong and muscled back. Her faery tipped them backwards once more; tracing the peaks of her bosom with wet, open mouthed kisses that trailed downwards.

 

What seemed like hours of panting and gasping in pleasure led to the edge of pain, and back again. Her lover’s slight hands were so very strong, and they held her firmly as she shuddered over and over again. Once in repose, her heavily lidded eyes caught golden filaments circling those tender and attentive hands as Maleficent placed them over the lower half of Aurora’s belly.

 

“Malle, what…?” her question was feebly formed, and quickly but affectionately hushed.

 

“I must say the words now,” the faery replied, almost shyly. " _Cé mise mé a iompróidh ár bpáiste? Roghnaigh mé tú._ "[1]  Firming her face into concentration, she began again. “Beloved gaze in thine own heart. The holy tree is growing there; from joy the holy branches start, and all the trembling flowers they bear.” A kiss from scarlet lips met Aurora’s center, then. “The changing colours of its fruit have dowered the stars with merry light. The surety of its hidden root has planted quiet in the night. The shaking of its leafy head has given the waves their melody  
and made my lips and music wed murmuring a wizard song for thee.”

 

Aurora reached up and cupped her lover’s face and beamed like a true child of the dawn, surrounded with wisps of vermillion and golden magick. She was sure it even weaved amongst her curls now, but Maleficent did not stop her enchantment yet. Leaning into Aurora’s hand, she sang like a cardinal calls its mate. “There the love a circle goes, the flaming circle of our days. Gyring, spiring to and fro, in those great ignorant leafy ways.” Smirking and wriggling her nose a bit in humor at Aurora, she continued. “Remembering all that shaken hair, and how the winged sandals dart; thine eyes grow full of tender care…Beloved gaze in thine own heart.”

 

“Is it done?” a small voice asked the wisps that circled her belly.

 

“It is done.” The deeper voice answered, a tremor shaking the womb that the lips had rested upon in reply.

 

Below the rowan tree and back at the mouth of the Sidhe, Talise had sat through it all. She didn't feel as if she was spying, and kept on creating rose bushes at the base of the tree to greet the Queen in bloom. Under her breath, she said her own incantation. "For all things turn to bareness in the dim glass; the demons hold the glass of outer weariness, made when God slept in times of old. There through the broken branches go, the ravens of unresting thought. Flying, crying, to and fro, cruel claw and hungry throat; or else they stand and sniff the wind and shake their ragged wings, alas…Thy tender eyes grow all unkind, gaze no more in the bitter glass. Beloved, gaze in thine own heart. The holy tree is growing there. From joy the holy branches start, and all the trembling flowers they bear." Maleficent had forgotten to invoke the spell upon herself, but that was alright. Talise was a mite bit sure she had done the pair justice.

 

[1] _Cé mise mé a iompróidh ár bpáiste? Roghnaigh mé tú._ \- Who am I to bear our child? I choose you.


	4. Póstaí Sídhe (Faerie Marriages are Often... Turbulent)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I’d like to thank The Llewellyn Journal for the insight on faery marriages and the lore surrounding them. 
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter includes: "Amarantine" by Enya. Amarant[h]ine means "endless, immortal, everlasting" in English. 
> 
> Reviews are always appreciated! XOXO, Readers!

A glorious month had passed in the Moors, with two visits from councilors of Aurora’s small chambers to check on the queen, her Lady Protector, and to decide anything that could not wait. Such meetings took place in the cottage just outside the Moors, where Aurora was raised by her three little “aunties.” Today was one such visit, and the gentlemen had left soon after noonday, seeking food and drink that wasn’t “touch’ed by the fae.”

Aurora smiled wryly. She ate the fae food every day, but she could tell that her councilors feared being stolen into the Moors. A chuckle escaped her pert lips as she imagined the elder gentlemen thinking that they were quite the catch. Shaking her head, she stood and stretched backward, in a rather unladylike display. Her back popped and creaked as her small hands reached for the thatch in the roof. Nearly moaning with relief, she settled back down into the chair and closed her eyes. She’d only close them a moment…she was sure. She’d just been quite so _tired_ lately.

As Aurora began to drift, her thoughts turned inward. She suspected that she was pregnant, but couldn’t know for sure. She’d certainly never been pregnant before, but judging from the hushed whispers of her ladies at the castle when they were with child and the resulting naps schemed behind the Queen’s back, well…to put it mildly, she had a suspicion. Aurora had tried to talk about it with Maleficent just two days prior, but the faery had been so very ill tempered. In fact, in stark contrast to the loving cupful she’d experienced for a few blissful days after their magick working together, Maleficent had soon turned broody and roving. She’d fly for hours on end, taking difficult and dangerous routes, diving quickly. Aurora would yelp at her to come down and stop her showing off, but that only served to anger the faery more, who would disappear into the woods with Diaval at her side. Aurora would never venture into those woods without Maleficent at her side; she wasn’t naïve enough to; therein laid fae folk of the middling sort, and sometimes-malevolent spirits that truly did not like humans.

One such afternoon the week prior, Aurora felt as if her heart would break. She’d slid awkwardly down the rowan tree trunk, hanging onto the lower branch for as long as she could. Still, she was a petite woman, even for a human. At 5’1, her toes hung a good six inches from the safety of the moss below when she wasn’t brave enough to make the leap in one swoop. Today, something told her to be careful, and it had caused her to hang like an idiot, yelping for help. Maleficent had flown off a good half hour before, and Aurora had taken to their bed to sob out some of her anger. Now, she was merely sad and sought to escape their shared home. She knew that she was acting churlishly, as evidenced by her predicament.

“Help me! Uhh, ahh! Help?” Aurora had called, tears streaked down her face. The grove near the bluff that the Rowan rested on was quiet. She assumed it was to give them some privacy during their quarrel, but now it just made her cry all the more.

“Queenie! Dannae drap!”[1] Robin warned, throwing his arms up in a feeble attempt to catch the woman should she fall. He didn’t think it would do much harm except twist her fragile human ankles, but he wondered why in the world she hadn’t just jumped down from the lower vestibule of limbs. She looked as if she had tried to climb her way along the lower branch, making this much harder on herself. Shaking his head, he muttered, “Dunderheids girnin’ aboot each ot’ter like thar paralytics.”[2]

“Wha’…What, Robin? Are you going to help me?” Aurora called, slightly agitated at his lack of speed or concern.

Robin cleared his throat and began slowly. Women were sensitive creatures, and though Aurora could not zap him with magick, she could haver to Maleficent about it. “Whit're ye daeing, ma Queenie? I heared the rammy ti’ dae. Wha’s the trauchle?”[3]

A groan sounded from the Sidhe as Talise crept her way out into the afternoon sunshine. Her husband had no such qualms about coming out in stark daylight, but she still did not prefer it. It would wrinkle her already aged skin further. She liked to look good for her 172 years on this good Moor.

“Away wit’ you, Robin.” Talise ordered, pointing to the woods. She knew her husband would know to speak to Maleficent, though it might take him a few minutes to figure it out. Woman-to-woman, it was best she speak with Aurora. Maleficent was a prickly sort, best left to those who knew her best. Besides, Talise spoke Plain better than Robin, and Aurora didn’t have to think twice in her responses. Honesty was the best policy in the Moors, and got to the root of the issue much faster. “Jump down gently, my Queen. Ya’ be fine.”

Aurora did that, and while it wasn’t a clean landing, she didn’t hurt anything. Rolling to a gentle stop near the log atop Talise was sitting; it seemed fate that they should talk. Looking back on it, Aurora was sure Talise knew from past experience that a person falling from that tree would roll to that log. Perhaps her love had been clumsy as a child…

“How are ye’ today, Aurora?” the gnome woman’s voice took on a motherly quality, and Aurora was grateful. She felt that she could trust Talise to help her navigate the many nuances of faery conversation without being offended. She never quite knew when she was stepping too far, or upsetting some tradition unknowingly. Her love was often quick to correct her gently, but lately the corrections had been met with huffs and grit teeth, snarling faces and growling sounds before a flap of wings blew her back, and out the ‘door’ her faery flew.

“I’m quite melancholy today, Talise.” Aurora replied, sounding quite deflated. “Maleficent and I keep ‘knocking around’ this week. It seems that I am annoying to her, and not a day goes by before we’re being bandy again.” The young Queen sniffled just then, wiping her nose indelicately on the sleeve of her dress. “I suspect I am pregnant, and when I told her such, I expected her to be overjoyed. But instead…Instead she…” a quick keening came from her mouth, and even quicker breaths in to steady herself against weeping again. “She said it was much too early to be telling such things, and that she wouldn’t hear of it. Ever since, she’s been so cold to me! My skin sings and cries out for her, but she brushes about me like I am invisible!”

“Invisible, never. Irreplaceable? Certainly. Fragile? Definitely.” Talise commented slyly, petting the Queen’s long golden curls about her back in an attempt to calm her. “She’s come to an experience in life that she’s uncomfortable with, Aurora. She’s never loved anyone more than you, and now she is presented with the fact that there is someone coming who she might love more than you. Someone even, that you may love more than her…”

“Whatever do you mean?” Aurora mumbled into her hands as she wiped her tears away. “I am so confused. There’s no one I would love more than her.”

“I know, sweets, I know. The Fae talk in circles, it’s a sorry habit I have.” The gnome joked, not feeling sorry at all. Knowing that it truly was too soon to tell Aurora that she was pregnant no matter how deeply she knew it true, she decided to change the subject. “Did I ever tell you the stories about the Seelie High Queen and King that lived a millennia ago? They were awfy dreich[4] to each other sometimes, but only because they loved each other so much.”

Aurora snuffled a bit, but sat up a bit straighter in piqued curiousity. She turned to her friend and opened her red stained eyes. “No? Would you tell me now?”

“’Af course, wee one. It’s an old faimly[5] tale. See, back after the biggin’ faeries came to this kingdom, the ones like your Maleficent? They established the Seelie Court… for the rest of us to come and rest before makin’ our own Sidhe. Back then, you could _see_ the Seelie Court. None of this glamour that they come sneakin’ upon you in the dead of night…” Talise muttered. “Fin Bheara[6], who ruled the faeries of the west of this area of the Moors, was the devoted husband of Queen Oonagh[7]. Oonagh had golden hair sweeping to the ground, and she dressed in silver gossamer glittering as if with diamonds, ‘tis were actually dew drops…”

“In spite of his wife's ethereal and eternal beauty, Fin Bheara was obsessed with human women who, overpowered by the music of the Moors, were spirited away to live there with him forever. He was said to have a second Queen, a Halfling named Nuala. Oonagh was unsurprisingly not welcoming to the human maidens to the fairy court, but she tolerated them. See, two Tuatha faeries born of the Moors cannot make a pretty bairn. They can make fae babes, to be sure…but ‘dere always covered in hair and quite a sight to behold. The eldest of these faeries lives by the sea…’Dere not particular nice,” she cleared her throat and tutted a bit when Aurora’s eyes grew big as saucers. “Did you ever wonder why Maleficent is so very pretty?”

“I always just assumed that all faeries are beautiful in their own way…” Aurora murmured, thinking on _her_ faery’s large and luscious lips, perennially painted a crimson that would shame the reddest of roses, and to her proud and jutting cheekbones. Her nose though, was her most adorable part – the fine aquiline slope was mired by a slightly round bump at the very bridge, but Aurora did not recall Maleficent ever telling her that she’d broken her nose. It was part of her character that made Maleficent so very _vulnerable_ to Aurora, and even more precious.

Talise shook her head firmly, clasping her bonnet of bluebell back to her tight grey curls. “Nae, sweet Aurora. Maleficent is the most beautiful of all of us because she is the most human. King Kinloch’s father took her father Lysander from the humans. His name was Thomas of Erceldoune, and he was consort to the Queen at the time. She never told her true name, not even to us. It was a part of her magick. She was so very true a ruler, and lovely. We called her _Bean chaol a chot uaine's na gruaige buidhe_ , ‘The slender woman wif’ green kirtle and yellow hair.’ Kinloch was a halfling, half human and half fae, but a true child of the Moors. See, if dere’s any fae in ye’, and you love the Moors as your home, then ye’re Fae. ‘Tis no bother how much human you are or not.” The gnome then studied her knee rather abruptly, attempting to rub a grass stain out of her apron. Aurora could see she was attempting to collect her words, and did not wish to appear daft, or hesitant.

Finally, Talise continued, “The Queen saw Lysander in his cradle along the shore of the river as his mother, the washerwoman would do clothing. He would always follow her with his eyes, seeing the Queen when his mother could not, giggling and cooing for her. She thought perhaps she could give the washerwoman another baby, a fae baby glamoured to look like him…but the thought of taking another person’s bairn and replacing him with one of her own halflings…what would have been the point? The Queen’s halflings were beauteous anyhow. Thomas of Erceldoune and the Queen loved each other enough to lust, and to make beautiful babes. He was right proud of his’self. He thought to take Lysander in the night, and did. He was thrown out of the Moors for the action, for the washer woman’s wails could be heard for months afterward. The Queen did not love her consort so much that she would abide in him disobeying her. The washer woman cried, and the Queen would sit on the edge of the forest with her new babe, whom she learned from the carrying on’ was named Lysander.”

“How awful for the washer woman!” Aurora exclaimed, nearly bobbing to stand with her indignation. The Queen was rare to anger, but Talise could see her pressing her sharp little human fingernails into the crook of her palms, pressing as if to calm herself or beat Thomas of Erceldoune o’er the head, she wasn’t sure.

“Sit and settle, my youngin’ Queen,” Talise soothed. “King Kinloch’s father was punished accordin’ly, and died alone in the human world with naught a person who cared. Maleficent’s father was given wings, blessed as a changeling by his new mother, the good Queen. Lysander grew strong among these cliffs and trees. Though being so thoroughly human his’self originally, he was naturally drawn to steal a maiden from the humans to make his own babes. Kinloch did so too, though he didn’t seduce the maiden too thoroughly. When Lysander would trail Hermia along the river, his flute would play such tunes you’d think the hearts of the trees would bleed. Hermia…Hermia came quite willingly. Her sister, well…” Talise paused, and cleared her throat. “I don’t like to speak ill of Queen Ulla. That’s a story better saved for your Maleficent to tell you. Someday…”

“What was the point of it all?” Aurora’s heart dropped into the pits of her stomach. “Just for prettier babies? Why are the Fae and humans so very cruel to each other in the histories, if most of the Fae were once human or had a half-human parent?” A single tear betrayed Aurora’s left eye, and fell along her reddened cheek slowly.

“The point of it all, and to my tale, is misunderstanding and how to make peace with it. You must allow Maleficent some time to get used to change, my dear. The Fae do not crave change, we abhor it really,” Talise relayed matter-of-factly. “Lysander and Hermia loved the humans, and loved the Fae. They wanted them to live in peace. You and Maleficent can bring truth and honor their memory if you can accomplish it. You’re doing very well so far, as the Fates have sought right to put the odds on the shoulders of True Love.” The gnome grinned then, and put her tiny hand on Aurora’s cheek, turning the young woman’s face to her. “Faery marriages are often… turbulent. But, the love always wins out. Even our Good Queen, mother to Kinloch and Lysander could not live long without her beloved, though she had shunned him to death. She was not long for this Earth, and left for the Summerlands a few years after the boys reached their maturities, anon.”

* * *

Diaval ran along as quickly as his awkward and gangly human legs could carry him. His mistress had transformed him into a man in her confusion before they had seen to sending him to fetch Aurora, and so fetch Aurora he would. It was late, nearing dark, and the Queen hadn’t been seen coming from the cottage. Diaval had thought to ask his Mistress why she hadn’t called Aurora back once the humans had ridden away from the edge of the Moors as they sat on the high ridge that overlooked the World of Man.

“Don’t be silly, Diaval.” Maleficent had quipped coldly. “Aurora is her own person. She will come back when she is ready.”

Diaval didn’t mention how he suspected the Queen was staying away from their tree home because Maleficent had been acting quite like an angry starling all month. He didn’t mention how he saw her wings quiver in fright and nervousness as she told him to leave off. Hells, he didn’t want to be turned into a mangy dog again.

So, here he ran. As soon as Maleficent had stood up, she suddenly had leaned over, grasping her rowan staff so closely to her and firmly to the ground that her knuckles had whitened even more than her skin. In his thoughts, Diaval shuddered. He hadn’t seen his Mistress in such physical distress in such a very long time. A long groan had exhaled out of her mouth then, and her claws had scrabbled her stomach as she wretched towards the ground.

Wincing at that memory, Diaval recalled Robin and Talise fetching Maleficent up from the ground where she had very unceremoniously fallen to her knees.

“’Tis alrigh’ to boak aboot this, dearie.”[8] The female gnome knelt and brushed her hands along his Mistress’s wings, which had drooped nearly to the grass in defeat or pain, he wasn’t sure. The grass sure bowf’d[9] where she had expelled her lunch, he could mingin[10] it from his perch. Talise had yelled at him then, telling him to go get Aurora. The last thing he heard before he was off sprinting was ‘Into a man…’ Would it be the last thing he heard from his Mistress? She had sounded so very _small_ then.

At long last, he reached the cottage. Taking deep, gasping gulpfuls of air to calm his weak human lungs, he burst into the front door. Aurora had been asleep, laid across the table while sitting in her chair. Her hair looked so pretty, curls seeming to make vines across the polished maple where they had been thrown by her falling into slumber. He shook his head. Now was not the time to admire his Queen.

“Aurora! Wake up! Wake up, it’s Maleficent!” he prattled loudly.

Aurora shot up like she’d been burned and turned blearily towards him, standing up. “Whatever is wrong, Diaval? What is wrong with Malle?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[1] Dannae drap – Don’t drop/fall.

[2] Dunderheids girnin’ aboot each ot’ter like thar paralytics – Airheads going after each other like drunks. A married couple who fights a lot.

[3] I heared the rammy ti’dae. Wha’s the trauchle? – I heard the argument this morning. What is it now?

[4] Awfy dreich – awfully coldly, cruel. Dreich’s true translation means cold, and damp. When people are dreich, they are cold in this way.

[5] Faimly – Family

[6] Fin Bheara – pronounced Finn Veer- Ahh

[7] Oonagh – pronounced Ooh- Nah.

 

[8] ‘Tis alrigh’ to boak aboot this, dearie. – It’s alright to barf here/now, dear.

[9] Bowf’d – Stank to high heavens.

[10] Mingin’ – Smelled, as in the Sense of Smell. Dogs and birds who sniff the air are often described to be “mingin’.”


	5. Anois, táim buartha (Now, I am sorrowful)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Good day to my readers! I’d like to first thank all those who left such lovely kudos for my fic here. The outpouring of support is so very appreciated.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter: “Cursum Perficio” (The Moors and Robin) and “Na Laetha Geal M'Óige” (Diaval, Maleficent, and Aurora) by Enya
> 
> As always, reads and reviews are what keep me writing! Keep me crackin’, folks! XOXO, Readers!

The Moors seemed to be under a deep sleep. As the Fae were interconnected with their home on such a symbiotic level, when there was tragedy or ire, sorrow or pain, the very trees trembled with it. This was a quiet kind of pain, the remnants leftover from a mournful lamentation. The flowers had closed their buds against the sun, which seemed so very dim for a spring’s day. The Fae that came out during the day even kept to the tree line, walking in slow, plodding motion or flying in slow, lazy loops.

 

Faces were crestfallen everywhere, but none so much as up in the great Rowan tree. The inky darkness of melancholy and distress spread like water does on a rock – slow, but steady. It reminded Robin of when Maleficent had been dour and depressed before, except without the anger. There were no black shadows that chased them across the Moor, as it had been. Rather, he felt with remorse, it was they that cast the shadows. No matter, every being had its way of grief. The Moors grieved together, from blades of grass to the largest faery.

 

Stopping his trudge at the base of the huge and ancient tree, he looked aloft, attempting to catch a glimpse of Maleficent and Aurora. He knew they were up there, though he and the others had not seen hair or hide of the two for days now. A leaf, brown and scrappy, fell upon his head, and he held the frond in his small hand. A tear fell over his cheek and onto the leaf. For the briefest moment, it began to turn verdant again, but then turned black with sadness. Dejected, he looked upwards again. True, the Fair folk hadn’t _seen_ the faery and her consort for days, but they had heard them. Oh, how he had heard them.

 

He remembered…

 

Quiet ululation, almost too soft for his trained ears. His charge for years, decades even, rarely cried. She didn’t cry so much on the day her parents died, though she’d been so very young to understand death. In her fourth decade, she knew far too much hate, and death. It could permeate her and turn her soul dark in an instant, and he feared even Aurora’s love may not be strong enough to bring the faery back from the brink. When her emotions would break through, a howling bawl made him cringe and remember the night that awfy human Stefan had betrayed her.

Cutting, abyssal cries plaintively begged the Universe for _no more pain._ Dusk fell again on the magickal forest, and he made his way back to the Sidhe and the open arms of his wifey.[1]

 

* * *

Gentle dawn broke through the leaves, and Diaval fluttered his wings, preening them gently before opening his eyes. There, still as the sun and the moon when locked in eclipse, were his Mistress and his Queen. Their hammock swayed gently with the breeze, which sought to comfort them and rock them as wee babes. He knew they wouldn’t venture out today, and it wasn’t any wonder why.

 

He’d never seen his Mistress so very fragile before. When she was angry or saddened in their early days together, she’d always shouted quickly and loudly, to be followed with frozen silence or quippy, cruel talk that put up walls betwixt her and the World. He could see her attempting to put up the same walls now, but Aurora was having none of it. Whispers met his ears now and again, and lowing here and there.   He shook his bird head, cocked slightly to the side as he thought of the days prior.

 

When Aurora and he had finally run back to the bluff where he had left Maleficent and the gnomes, there was naught left but that bile she’d spewed. Aurora’s eyes had grown wide at that. “Faeries don’t get sick like humans, do they Diaval?” she had asked in disbelieving tone.

 

“I don’t rightly know, Aurora.” He had answered honestly, but that didn’t put the young Queen at any ease. She had popped up and run towards the glen with a speed he didn’t know she had until then, only to be met with enervated, nearly powerless gasps and moans coming from the tree boughs.

 

Talise’s voice had risen above them, murmuring gently when needed and then forceful as in support. “Bide yer’ time, sweetling. Na’ need to be huffing and puffing aboot. The spirit was wee, won’t take much of your energies now.”

 

Robin knelt by the stream, washing what looked to be Maleficent’s robes of brown and burgundy stains, rags and such littered the shoreline. He met their eyes and shook his head, eyes deep as the years he’d seen. “Canny, corbie. Ah’ t’ink Aurora be the only wan to go on up, today. Whit a fankle…”[2] he had muttered, going back to the wash.  

Aurora had already climbed up the tree, skittering and clawing so that Diaval thought her pretty nails must have stuck lodged in the very bark, left behind in her haste.

 

A tiny voice brought him back to the present. “Malle? My darling, won’t you even look at me?” Aurora’s voice quivered with grief and fear. “Don’t leave me now, don’t go far away.” The human lass had put her purty hand along the jaw of his Mistress and turned the un-seeing eyes towards her. A huff then, a tug of the wings., anything to rouse his Mistress into action. She seemed as still as stone.

 

“D’you think I am not sad too?” the hurt was plain in Aurora’s voice. “I would have…I love it too. We would have loved it so…” her voice drifted off.

 

Without warning, the prostrate wings fluffed and bristled and awareness came to the mossy eyes. A glint of rage coursed through them, if only briefly. Diaval cowed slightly, backing an inch or so into the leaves.

 

“ ** _Don’t._** ” His mistress had spoken. The ice and gritty tenor to her cried-out voice made the tree whimper in motion. “The heavens have given me notice. I am not _good enough_ to carry your child, Aurora. “

 

“Now, that simply may not be true. Perhaps my intention isn’t strong enough? I am only human now… We could try again for you after I’ve gained my wings.” Aurora replied. “Or Talise said that it may be because you didn’t believe in it strongly enough…” she whispered. “We didn’t even talk about _you_ having a baby. If you didn’t know…” Oh, but her innocence was spied through her words that unintentionally hurt.

 

“Do you think that I’d wish away my own child? That my _feigned ignorance_ from fear of this happening caused it? _You think I did this?”_ Maleficent’s voice was poisonous, now. The torment and misery were plain and present in her attitude.

 

“Nuh-NOO!” Aurora stuttered. “I would _never_ think that, Malle.”

 

“I think it’s best you leave for the day,” Maleficent strongly suggested. Her teeth clacked together with the force of her temper, but the only thing Diaval felt from listening was _cold_. _“You’re_ still with child, and as such, you need the sun and to stroll about. Not to be coorie doon[3] all day with me.”

 

“No, I need to be here with you, my love.” Aurora retorted firmly.

 

“ _Nonsense, dear heart._ Leave me, then.” Maleficent goaded, her words pleasant but the meaning quite another. She wanted to be alone with her pain, to wallow in it and allow it to envelop her. Diaval should know, he’d seen her do it countless times before.

 

As he begged silently for Aurora not to take the bait, she did.

 

“ _Fine then,_ I shall go and see how my kingdom fares while you brood alone. Enjoy.” The poison laced in Aurora’s voice was unfamiliar to Diaval, and he knew then that while she grieved the same as Maleficent, she didn’t know quite how.

The only other people Aurora could have cared about in this world had died before or soon after she had met them; unable to bond with mother or father, their deaths meant something very different to her than a normal child. Maleficent, on the other hand, had lost so very many dear to her.

 

The wince barely made it’s way to his Mistress’s eyes, but she did stretch out her now shivering wings.  

If Maleficent was beautiful and strong when at her best, today she was a shadow of her truest self. Dark circles enveloped her eyes, and her cheekbones were even more gaunt than usual. The Faery glow that usually was about her even in times of woe was gone, and her skin lay pallid against her like a dry sheet of parchment. As her right wing’s talon caught a branch and she shook it loose, feathers scattered about the floor. Diaval counted at least 15 flight feathers mixed in with the down from her undercoat. This was bad… very, very bad indeed.

 

His Mistress shrugged herself deeper into the cocoon of her hammock, not touching the bannocks or blaeberries[4] that the lady gnome had brought last evening. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but what emerged from her throat bewildered and entranced Diaval just the same. She was… chanting; a low melodic sound that could barely be considered singing, as if she didn’t want the Moors to hear.

 

“Ag amharc trí m'óige, is mé 'bhí sámh. Gan eolas marbh ,bhí mé óg gan am. Anois, táim buartha, 's fad ar shiúil an lá. Ochón 's ochón ó…”[5] the last syllable ended with a creak in her voice, and Diaval smelled salt in the air. He croaked a bit, and if he was a man, he might tear up. Ruffling his feathers, he decided to brave Maleficent’s temper and gleaned over the thermals blowing through the tree to his Mistress’s shoulder.

 

Instead of the chill he expected to find in her eyes, he saw a melting ache as she peered to the side. “Pretty bird…” her words faltered a moment over Aurora’s nickname for him. “Will you sing with me, my pet? Hmm? Sometimes I think only you can understand my moods.”

A deep inhalation brought her next words, sharper and higher in volume than she had began. “Na laetha geal m'óige, bhí siad lán de dhóchas…An bealach mór a bhí romham anon. Bhí sé i ndán domh go mbéinn, slán, slán.” Her agony seemed to crescendo over the last two words, which he knew together meant the final goodbye that the Fae bade their folk as they went to the Summerlands or ventured to Tír na nÓg.

“Anois, táim buartha, 's fad' ar shiúil an lá. Ochón 's ochón ó…” her warbling died out, and with it seemed to usher a new look upon her face. A steely gulp later, she faced him again.

 

“I need to fix this, don’t I? Ai, but it hurts. My heart, it hurts, Diaval.”

 

* * *

Aurora sat atop the hummock near a lukewarm bathing pool with a waterfall, a mile or two from the main glen. She wanted to be alone with her confusing thoughts, afraid that she might snap at one of her beloved friends and subjects in her pain. She knew the words that she had said hurt Maleficent, and knew she could have worded them better. Slowly slipping out of her night shift that she hadn’t bothered changing, she stood proud and nude before the waterfall, glaring at it for a moment.

 

“Why? Why give me a baby, give her a baby, and then take hers away? You’re some all-knowing Spirit, so they say. Well, if you knew _anything_ , you would not have taken hers. You have given her _nothing_ but heartache, all her life.” Aurora accused the obscure presence she always felt in the Moors, but could never see.

 

She thought that she heard the water utter “ _We gave her you,_ ” before she heard a splash behind her and turned slowly to face the intruder.

 

There in the crevasse carved into the rock by the waterfall was her love, face barely peeking above the water as if to conceal her body from Aurora. That pained Aurora, but what tortured her more were the undeniable emotions swirling in Maleficent’s eyes: regret, anguish, yearning even… and of course unconditional love.

 

“They gave me you, my Beastie,” Maleficent spoke with conviction, standing slightly to hold open her wings and arms in welcome. Whether it was for her to comfort Aurora, or to seek comfort in her… the Queen wasn’t truly sure.

 

Aurora decided that she didn’t care. She slipped as quickly as she could into the calm ripples of water surrounding her faery lover, wading into the winged embrace.

 

“I’m… sorry.” Maleficent started. “I’ve let myself become distant and cold in my sadness. I will… try,” she choked out, her eyes pricking again.

 

“Shhhhh, my heart.” Aurora soothed. “There is nothing to forgive. I love and adore you for all that you are. Gods know, I can be difficult too.”

 

Maleficent barked in humor at that statement, and for a moment her teeth glimmered in a mockery of a smile, but her lips soon smoothed over the sharp incisors and pursed in a smaller, more trained face of momentary peace. “I would have asked you to call her Luna,” she murmured quiescently into Aurora’s ear. “For you are the Sun and I am the Moon, and she was mine. But, now as we’ve lost her, I shall call her Aibhlinn[6], for my heart will always long for her.”

 

“You knew it was a girl so soon?” Aurora inquired, gently curious about this new discovery and hoping to keep Maleficent talking.

 

“Yes, my rose. I knew when I felt the first roots of her grow strong in my womb. Strong, but not strong enough,” the faery’s voice faltered.

 

Aurora hugged Maleficent even more closely, but still gently and mindful of the physical pain she was probably still experiencing. “I shall call her Aibhlinn, as well.”

 

With those very words, the Moors breathed a sigh of relief, and a single rosebud awakened beneath the Rowan, out of time with the day for it was nearly dusk.

 

 

 

[1] Wifey - Older woman, beloved wife.

[2] Canny, corbie. Ah’ t’ink Aurora be the only wan to go on up, today. Whit a fankle. – Be careful, raven. I think Aurora should be the one to go up. What a mess.

[3] Coorie doon – cuddled up

[4] Bannocks – Biscuity cookies served with tea. Blaeberries – Bilberries.

[5] Maleficent’s song, “Anois, táim buartha (Now, I am sorrowful)” – Old Gaelic poem/song – “Looking back over my youth, I was content. Without knowledge of death, I was young, without time. Now I'm sorrowful, the day is long past. Alas and woe, oh. The bright days of my youth, they were full of hope. The great journey that was before me then, was what was destined to be, forever goodbye.”

[6] Aibhlinn – (pronounced Eve-LEAN) Longed for girl. Literal: “I long for her.”


	6. Mo chroí (My Heart)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Good evening, readers. Here’s your update for tonight. I hope you enjoy! Avast – there be lemons ahead to make up to your gentle souls the torment of the last chapter (however needed for plot points.) 
> 
> As always, reads and reviews are so very appreciated. XOXO, readers!

Maleficent climbed the newest addition to her Rowan’s enormous trunk. Smiling inwardly, she was secretly quite proud of the tree granting her permission to green magick it into having a ladder of sorts up the front made of smaller limbs that grew off the lowest of the old growth. ‘Draíochta glas,’ or the healing of plants, trees, and the ability to communicate with the flora in and around the Moors had always been Maleficent’s best ability. Her home tree honored her greatly by allowing her magick, though – “he” had been around for millennia before her, she was sure.

 

An airy, feminine exhalation came from their little home that she had been slowly adding to with the tree’s help over the past four moons. What had once been a few sucker branches knitted across the base of the great tree arms had turned into quite a network of well knit limbs, creating a basket-like effect. Walls had even grown up along the sides, with open porthole windows placed in the best position to receive the evening airs and daily breezes. Nooks abounded in each little section of their tree house – a human shelf placed here for Aurora’s books that Maleficent was learning to read, and a reed basket full of scrolls that Maleficent would carefully scritch on with a charcoal stylus to teach Aurora the language of the Fair Folk. Aurora had issues with the dipthongs and accents, and would sometimes get flustered.

 

They made a game of teaching her how to speak it, as Maleficent already spoke Plain. Each morning when she would return from gathering their breakfast left along the farms bordering the Moors, she’d announce her arrival and Aurora would have to guess what the food was called in Fae before she’d get a nibble. Though, judging about the pregnant woman’s sore temper as of late, Maleficent surmised this game wouldn’t last much longer. While she liked to get a rise out of her love, she could act rather hen-pecked if she was hungry enough.

 

“Mo chroí, I’ve brought you treats...” she announced as she entered the floor-door that led from their tree ladder. She could barely speak a word more, for her breath had been stolen away.

 

Sunbeams streamed through the woven pattern in the wall and fell upon Aurora’s naked skin like constellations. Her once golden curls had turned flaxen in the sun of the summer, and draped lazily over the side of their “bed,” which Aurora always teasingly called a nest. A sheet draped over her thighs, but the rest of her strikingly beautiful mate was on display.  

Smiling coyly, Maleficent fluttered her way silently to the side of the pile of bound feathers called a mattress, which sat atop the bed...nest.

She rolled her eyes. Humans were always so apt to identify rather than describe. Objects had more meaning than their individual properties in the Plain language. The Fair Folk called their sleeping arrangements by their qualities. Maleficent called their bed “the place where my heart rests,” or “the place where I please her and she pleases me.” Talise had told her the latter was scandalous, for good measure.

As she unwrapped her figure eight cordage from her bosom and waist, she put away the breakfast treats for now.   If Aurora was sleepy, then she could at least attempt to be sleepy, too.

Flapping her wings gently to stretch before lying down, the gentle breeze she brought up blew over Aurora’s back, and her curls danced. Such little wonders brought a delight to Maleficent. She was careful to snuggle softly behind the Queen, who was rounded with their child to the point of exhaustion.

 

As she lay next to her darlings, Maleficent couldn’t help but trace the pirouetting sunbeams along her sweetling’s bare hips and rounded belly.   As lightly as she could, her nails grazed the skin, feeling the magick coming from within the safe haven of Aurora’s body. The baby’s magick rose up to meet her own; mauve met golden and together created a color that the faery thought matched Aurora’s nipples towards the end of this month. She didn’t relish many changes in her life, but the changes in Aurora’s body never ceased to fascinate her.   Aurora had described the color as “dusky pink.” Maleficent simply said “stiúdú.” Stunning; and she was, her Queen.

 

A whimper escaped Aurora’s rosy lips then, and she snuggled further into the embrace of Maleficent’s left wing, grasping it and nuzzling gently in her slumber. Surprising... she had thought Aurora’s state of undress was due to being too warm in the late summer temperature.

The humans called it the “Dog Days,” a term that highly offended Diaval. She’d tried to explain to the raven that it was due to the Tuatha’s teachings on how the dog-star Sirius rose high into the night sky, but he’d been even more offended that one of the most important summer stars was a “dirty, mangy mutt.”

 

August. Maleficent tried the word as silently as she could and shook her head at the “tch,” sound she’d typically make instead of a hard “tuh.” Lúnasa, her word for the month, rolled over her tongue. She considered it superior, and far more pleasant.

 

“Hmm? Malle?” Aurora shifted, hearing the sound of her faery whispering behind her shoulder. Deep azure eyes met teal and olive ones, and neither spoke for a moment, simply relishing in the uninterrupted view of each other. “You’re wearing far too many clothes for such a hot day,” she yawned.

 

“I am only in my robes, sweet Aurora. I don’t feel the heat or cold quite like you do,” Maleficent countered, wondering how very hot it must feel to Aurora, what with being so large and growing by the day.

 

“I _know_ that, Malle. I just...” Aurora sighed then, and looked at Maleficent with a slight pout to her lips. Her eyes looked pleading.

 

Maleficent nearly chuckled out loud. Her beloved was so easy to read at times, it was comical. “D’you wish me to undress and lay with you skin-to-skin? Will that not make you warmer?”

 

“I don’t care!” Aurora came back with quickly, grasping at the clasp in the front of her robes’ center folds. “Off, off!”

 

Maleficent heard “ _Up, up!”_ in her mind and centered her breathing. Her Beastie was quite a bossy little thing.  

 

“ _Alright_ , Beastie. You win this battle.” Standing up, she unclasped her light gauzy silk robe herself and allowed it to slip over her wings and to the floor. Hopping lithely back into the bed, she tickled Aurora’s sides gently.

 

Aurora gasped for breath through her giggles and pawed at Maleficent’s sharp fingers, which were _just too good_ at tickling her, and too good at finding her most erogenous spots. She fixed the faery with a stern gaze and harrumphed when Maleficent stopped her teasing. “But you always win the war, correct?”

 

“ _Well, well._ My Queen is quite the smart one.” Maleficent quipped, tapping Aurora on the tip of her nose.

 

An emotion darkened the Queen’s face and eyes, and her cheeks became ruddy. “I am very smart. You tell me so all the time. Though, I don’t feel hungry enough for food for today’s lesson. I am full enough of baby.” Aurora joked, caressing her stomach in a circular fashion.

 

The faery thought she’d never see such a beautiful sight as the ripples of magick that met Aurora’s hand, and a stretching that occurred just beneath the skin as their child stretched and found comfort in it’s mother’s womb. She imagined that she saw the poke of a wing here, the curve of a knee there as the bairn furled and tossed inside.

 

“Ohh!” Aurora gasped, flinching a bit. “She is naughty like you, Malle. She seeks to poke me like you, but she does not tickle.”

 

“Mmmm...” Maleficent scowled a bit in thought. She didn’t like the idea of the babe causing her Aurora any sort of pain, but she knew it was unavoidable. She was in the fifth month of her seven month pregnancy. Faery babes grew bigger and swifter than human babes, and their large wings made them ungainly in such a petite woman as her love.

A shimmer of pink light crested over Aurora’s belly then, and Maleficent had an ‘ah, ha!’ moment. “I know how to relieve the discomfort, my dear one. Lie back, and I’ll talk to it.”

 

Aurora sputtered and smiled, shaking her head. “I don’t think she knows how to speak or listen yet, Malle. But, have a go if you wish.” She reclined languidly on the soft, pillowed cocoon.

 

“If it’s anything like it’s mother, then it will listen.” Maleficent bantered. Wiggling her fingers as if to stretch them, she drew them just over the top of the darkened line that came from Aurora’s belly button and down to womanhood.

Gilded essence met rose once more, in a dance that entranced Aurora, her eyes lidded heavily. The baby did seem to enjoy the communication, and seemed to settle down, and nestle deep in her pelvis. “What did you say to her?”

 

“I don’t know why you insist on calling it a ‘her,’ foremost. I cannot tell the sex of the babe when it’s inside _you_. I told it to stop poking their wings into your poor kidneys and to sleep. It complied.” Maleficent responded drily.

 

“Mmm, as if I or the baby could resist your sleeping spell,” Aurora jibed, eyes alight with good humor. “But, how ever does it even know what a kidney is?”

 

“I told it so.” An easy swoop and point of the bottom flight feathers of Maleficent’s wing over her stomach meant to show it was an easy thing.

 

Aurora smiled at the faery’s unspoken language. “So, I don’t know. I don’t know how to say any of my body parts in your tongue.”

 

Maleficent’s eyes lit up in excitement, then. “I will show you.” She lay back down next to Aurora and brushed the edge of a fingertip ever so lightly over Aurora’s neck.

“Muineál,” she murmured before leaning forward to kiss the Queen deeply, craning herself to fit _just so_ , neck to neck.

 

Drawing back, the breathless maiden looked captivatedly at the faerie, who simply said again; “Muineál. Neck. Necking.”

 

She drew back down to Aurora’s gently sloping, almost elegant decolletage and placed another, open mouthed kiss there. As she whispered “cnámh cófra,” she bit down not-so tenderly and sucked the dewy skin between her teeth.

Maleficent heard Aurora suck in a breath, and the sheet rustle as her love’s thighs began to rub together. Yes, she was enjoying this morning’s lesson, indeed. As she leaned back this time, the indent of her sharp Fae teeth left on the porcelain skin of _her woman_ and the welling life-blood below the surface of the skin gave her pause... and pleasure.

 

Pausing briefly to give Aurora a scintillating stare, she raised her hands up to cup the perfectly round mounds atop the woman’s chest. She stroked the glowing, darker skin at the tips firmly with her tongue, just enough to make her beauty squirm and then huskily breathed over the peaks, delighting in how they tensed like a mimosa bush when you disturbed them to perk delectably. "And these are chíche," the faerie exhaled. 

 

Swiftly, Aurora’s hands reached out for Maleficent’s own chest, squeezing and kneading gently while fixing the faery with a heated gaze. “Chee-hyuh,” she replied clumsily, her cheeks reddening even more.

 

“Mmm, good. I daresay you’re becoming quite good, mo chroí,” Maleficent murmured, her hands exploring Aurora’s stretched abdomen and using her nails to touch all of the Queen’s favorite spots. “Bolg. Not very interesting for it’s own part, but what’s inside is better to know... Broinn. Our bairn is in your broinn.”

 

Nodding silently, Aurora leaned forward to capture Maleficent’s lips in a searing kiss. Her hands wound behind the faery, and snaked up her wingspan to the juncture where they met her shoulders. She knew this was a very sensitive spot on her lover, and the shiver that she felt within her arms was testament enough. “What are these called?”

 “Sciatháin,” Maleficent panted in response.

 

 Aurora’s nimble hands wound their way through her Malle’s hair, leaning in a way that left her chest at a quite enticing angle, and then without warning firmly gripped the base of the faerie’s horns, and tugged her face forward. “And these?”

 “Adharca,” Maleficent stammered into the valley between Aurora’s breasts. Held there a moment, she couldn’t resist loving on them some more, but then her lady moved swiftly back and lay in repose once again.

 

Spellbound, Maleficent could hardly blink as Aurora’s hands trailed up her own thighs to the juncture between, where the soft, blonde down masked one of the faery’s favorite parts of her lover.

 “And what is this called?” Aurora asked, her voice sweetly innocent even as she dipped a finger inside.

 

“Fhaighin.” Maleficent’s reply was so quick and deeply tenored that Aurora doubted she could repeat the word without asking again another day.

Her ardent lover swooped at her like a falcon does a fish, tackling her with firm touches that guided her downwards against the pillows, and her hands upwards.

She gasped in joy as she felt her... whatever that word was... being played like a lute with Maleficent the strummer. Exhaling coquettishly into the shell of the elfin ear nearest her cheek as her neck and collar bone were ravished once more, Aurora set her claim: “I win today’s war.”

* * *

 

 

The raven had been a man for much longer than he liked. He’d flown with Maleficent for most of the morning to the farms littering the countryside, many of which were overjoyed to have a Fair Folk representative blessing them once more. But, their last stop was to a very old woman named Gia...Giova?

He cocked his head but failed to recall the difficult human moniker. Here, he’d been transformed into a man to have tea and cakes with the lady of the farm, and she and Maleficent had yammered for a goodin’ half hour. Then, she made him walk back to the Moors with her, stating that her legs needed the exercise because she anticipated a ‘strenuous morning ahead!’ Had you ever thought you’d hear his Mistress say such a thing?

 

“Whit’re you puzzling out, corbie?” Talise questioned, a glimmer in her smile.

 

He turned to the diminuitive woman gnome. “Maleficent has been up the tree for hours now. I’ve got a right mind to go up that ladder and ask her me’self to change me back. I want to go in the clouds. They’re mite’ pretty today.”

 

Talise merely shook her head. “I don’ t’ink you’re going to be getting back to being a baird anytime soon, Diaval. Maleficent is busy working her magick today.” A slight waggle of an eyebrow told Diaval all he _ever_ wanted to know.

 

“Well, a’right then,” and he walked off, muttering about humans, the fae, and their constant desire to preen each other.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. An Ghrian, Gealach, agus Réaltaí (The Sun, Moon, and Stars)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Thank you so much to my loyal readers and reviewers for continuing in your support! 
> 
> This chapter contains descriptions of clothing that Maleficent and Aurora wear. If you’d like to see them, follow these links:  
> Maleficent’s dress (and hair:) http://www.frenchnovelty.com/p/JK236/Johnathan+Kayne+Iridescent+Taffeta+Halter+Mermaid+Prom+Dress+236.html  
> Aurora’s dress: https://www.etsy.com/listing/187434067/caftan-dress-purple-beaded-silk-jeweled?ref=listing-13
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> “Ebudae” by Enya  
> “Marble Halls” by Enya
> 
> As always, reads and reviews are appreciated! XOXO, readers!

September’s pleasant temperatures had come and gone, and with it the Queen and Maleficent made their slow, ambling journey back to the castle for the winter. Though Maleficent could surely survive quite well without too much shelter in the colder months ahead, Aurora was certainly in a state not fit for it, and her human constitution meant that the nipping winds and icy frosts and snows made her quite cold.

 

With a breath of relief, the small council had received the parchment brought by Diaval on the morning of the first frost: their Queen and consort were due to arrive within days. It was nearing the Fair Folk’s New Year, and the humans were in quite a dither harvesting as much of the abundant crops and storing them up for the months ahead. It had been an astounding year for the farms, and though the councilors and gentry loathed stating it, they had the new peace brought by Queen Aurora’s and Maleficent’s love to thank for it.   The kingdom was flourishing with wealth from agricultural trades, and the fabrics trade had finally made its come back after being dormant for so long. Young girls had been taught by their grandmams the fine embroidery and spinning long forgotten, and the ladies of the court fawned over the newest damasks, silks, and gauzes.

 

Even the pixies that Queen Aurora affectionately called her Aunties were in on the merriment; they had long since lived year round at the castle, preferring the sumptuous surroundings to the Moors. Maleficent had remarked that they were quite the rabble, only thinking of themselves and only having two or three thoughts at a time, only to move onto another. But Aurora loved her Aunties, whatever pixie temperament they displayed.

 

While the “Royal Court of the Moors” made it’s passage to the inner countryside, word travelled ahead. Cakes were baked, cock-a-lekkie stew was bubbling, and all sorts of delicious fresh fruits, vegetables, and cheeses were laid out in the kitchens in anticipation of a great welcome. In the large ovens, roasting spits boasted large haunches of venison, pork, and beef.

 

The task of outfitting the Queen and Maleficent had fallen to the seamstresses of the keep, though they were often visited and helped by the three pixies, Thistlewit, Knotgrass, and Flittle. They tried to help at least, their personalities often clashing and causing the human women to pause, lifting hands from embroidery needles and looms to guffaw into hands or cast knowing glances at each other. Yelps of “Blue!” and “Pink!” met the courtiers ears whenever they passed the sewing rooms, though more often than not from the swift work of the mortal seamstresses, the gowns coming out were golden, burgundy, scarlet, bronze, brown, azure and amethyst.

 

The youngest among them kept to a corner nearest a window, her stitches impossibly tiny on the rich and luxuriant taffeta in her hands. It was woven in such a way that when turned one way, it appeared bronze, and the other blue… but the main color the gown would display was mossy green. Thistlewit flew over to the girl’s perch. “And whom is this gown for? It’s such a… unique color. I’ve not seen such magick done by human hands.”

 

“’Tis not magick, Miss Thistlewit,” the girl shyly replied. “’Tis for the Mistress Maleficent, to match her eyes. The Queen always goes on for days about her eyes; I thought it might please her as well. May I ask where to put the holes for her wings?” she asked while holding up the gorgeous dress.

 

“Perhaps…If you just leave the sleeves off the dress and bring up the bodice ‘round her neck? Like this, see? Her mother used to wear her robes with one shoulder sometimes….” Thistlewit concentrated, her tongue peeking through her teeth.

 

“Oh, thank you, Miss Thistlewit!” the girl exclaimed in joy. “Now will you help me with these many jewels I’d like to bead to the bodice? How many d’you think Mistress would like?”

 

Thistlewit’s wry grin beheld a joking nature, but she knew that Maleficent _did_ like pretty things. “ _Many!”_ Maleficent would glow like the Gem Pool itself when she was done!

 

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Try as she might, Maleficent could not weasel or threaten her way out of wearing the gown the castle handmaidens had queued up for tonight’s festivities. She’d never felt quite so naked _while_ being clothed before, and it made her snarl when she looked into the mirror. The garment looked light as air, but it was heavily jeweled and beaded. When Thistlewit had brought the frock to her dressing chamber an hour or so ago, she’d nearly cursed the pixie, but instead settled on silent indignation when she had heard the small, timid voice of the human girl who had followed. Maleficent could tell that she was a seamstress from her early-gnarled knuckles and callused fingertips that so drastically mismatched her youthful face. “D’you like it, Mistress? I…I can take it back if you donnae,” the little urchin had whispered.

 

Did she like it? She wasn’t sure. She flapped her auburn wings behind her, reveling in the freedom of not having fabric shift about their base at the shoulder. The fire set her skin aglow in the dim light, and set the very gems embedded into the bodice aflame. Maleficent would have liked to say that it was truly gaudy, but the humans liked to keep up appearances for those within the court. The more you sparkled like a damned star, the better. She grit her teeth into a grimace, but upon smelling salt in the air, she trained the grimace quickly into a coolly composed grin, jaw locked. Turning towards the girl and Thistlewit, she answered, “It is a dress. I do like the color.”

 

You would have thought someone had given the child a bonnet full of gold coin, for the resounding whoop she gave while running out of the room. “I knew the Mistress would like her gown!”

 

Thistlewit was not fooled. “That was very…kind, Maleficent. The girl wanted to match the shade of your eyes, and loomed the fine silks herself. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

 

Swishing side to side to see the pearly iridescence come across the dress, Maleficent wondered at the talent therein. “It is truly a curiosity to behold, pixie. I thank you for assisting her.”

 

“Aurora will just adore you in it.” Thistlewit buzzed about Maleficent’s shoulders, grinning craftily. “Shall I help you with your hair?”

 

“I daresay Aurora adores me in a haversack, but I do agree that she will like the dress.” Maleficent retorted, a bit of nervousness showing in her insolence. Then, quietly she murmured, “I don’t know what to do with my hair. I’ve only just wrapped it before, or tucked it half-back. I don’t think either style does such an evening justice. We’ve never had such a grand welcome back from the Moors…not since her coronation, and I merely wore my black robes and cap.”

 

The pixie vibrated with delight as she spun herself into a larger personage. Her hands thrust into her skirt folds and came back out with all manner of torture devices, Maleficent was sure. Just as she was about to retract her acquiescence, Thistlewhit squealed. “Curls!”

 

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Queen Aurora rested uncomfortably in the stiff throne atop the dais, surveying the outpouring of love, support, wonder, and curiosity that alighted her subjects’ and nobles’ faces as they feasted. A few did not do well at hiding their jealousy, and even fewer still did not hide their malevolence. She would watch them carefully, and be sure to tell Maleficent.   Meeting one of the gentleman’s eyes that held a disgusting notion of challenging her, she sat a bit straighter and held her hand over the rounded abdomen that held their heir. Biting her cheek, she willed her eyes to tell the man that she would rather die than allow him to harm the child within. His eyes startled and fell quickly. Good.

 

“So intimidating, my Beastie,” a whisper fell behind her ear, and a wisp of silks announced the arrival of her consort. Turning gently as not to disturb the baby, Aurora sought to bite Maleficent with words for not addressing her properly, but fell quite short.

 

“My dear, I love you so. Please glamour yourself back from a codfish.” Maleficent jested, looking mighty uncomfortable in Aurora’s appraisal. “I am no where as luminous as yourself.”

 

Clapping her lips together once more, the Queen whispered, “you lie.” Tsk-ing a moment, she found her hand reaching out to touch the jewels that encrusted Maleficent’s bodice, or better yet the soft waves that fell to one shoulder.   Her reach fell short, for propriety’s sake. An understanding fell across the faery’s face and she smiled warmly, taking Aurora’s hand into her own and settling herself on the lower seat of the throne, which was truly a footstool. They’d argued over this appearance before, but Maleficent insisted that if she had to sit upon human furnishings, it would be at her love’s feet, ready to serve and protect. It was a compromise from the insufferable hovering about that she had done before, leaving Aurora to wonder about Maleficent’s feet aching until the faery had wryly shown bare toes poke out from beneath her robes.

 

The Great Hall’s herald tapped his baton roughly twice against the polished inlay floor at the arrival of the faery. A hush fell over the guests as they craned their necks towards his announcement. “Her Majesty, Her Royal Highness Aurora and her consort, the Faery Mistress Maleficent are honored this evening. May their health be good, their lives be long, and our Queen’s rule eternal. Long live the Queen!” Shouts and toasts rang out, echoing in the large space.

 

The herald continued once the voices had died down. “Our first entertainment, specially crafted for Her Majesty and the Lady Protector, by the court minstrels. Would you do us the honor of opening the floor, your Majesty?”

 

Aurora dipped her head in response, and beamed. Taking Maleficent’s hand once more, she ignored the tug of mild protest she felt therein. She felt light as air in her own gown of gossamer, a deep royal purple studded across the neckline and down the front with fine jewels. It accented her plump figure in a way that was so alluring, but quite serviceable. She certainly couldn’t venture outside without a heavy cloak, but it served to help with the flashes of heat she’d been prone to in the past week.   The Queen and her faery walked to the center of the cleared dance floor, and met each other’s eyes. Raising their opposing hands to meet and begin the dance, the minstrels’ lute, harp and voice rose above the crackling of the enormous fireplaces.

 

“I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls  
With vassals and serfs at my side,  
And of all who assembled within those walls  
That I was the hope and the pride.  
I had riches all too great to count  
And a high ancestral name,” a feminine songstress wove the story, meant to mimic the story of Aurora and Maleficent. A swish of skirts was heard amongst the gentle strumming behind the voice as the two danced, their feet lithe and happy.

 

“But I also dreamt which pleased me most  
That you loved me still the same,  
That you loved me  
You loved me still the same,  
That you loved me  
You loved me still the same.” A turn to the right, and a double tap of the foot brought them back around, the rules of dancing the pavan[1] allowing them to transverse a large amount of the room, hand in hand.

 

“I dreamt that suitors sought my hand,  
That knights upon bended knee  
And with vows no maidens heart could withstand,  
They pledged their faith to me.  
And I dreamt that one of that noble host[2]  
Came forth my hand to claim.” Several guffaws sounded from the gallery then, as they remembered the line of gentlemen and noblemen that had requested a kiss from the sleeping Princess from the King in the hours before Maleficent had arrived.

 

Maleficent wanted to growl, but her beauty’s loving eyes sparkled in good grace at the laugh at their expense. Truly, it was but a memory in time. A click of Aurora’s simple shoes reminded Maleficent to “clap” her bare ankles together before they came abreast, quite close now. The nightingale continued her tale.  
  
“But I also dreamt which charmed me most  
That you loved me still the same  
That you loved me  
You loved me still the same,  
That you loved me  
You loved me still the same.” When the music died down, Maleficent could not wait a moment longer, and brought their distance to a close. Though merely inches apart at this point in the dance, her body needed more. Placing a barely-there kiss onto the corner of Aurora’s stunned but satisfied lips, the Faery walked them back to the dais to rest and make merry.

 

“Huzzah! They’ve made kissy face, and let us eat!” a man catcalled, and the space was full of joy. Even Maleficent smiled.

 

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Aurora groaned indelicately as Maleficent’s nimble fingers stretched and rubbed at her feet, which she was sure now resembled morning sausages. Propped in a high backed and fluffy chair near the fireplace, her consort made laid bare her pleasure at touching and caressing the Queen’s feet. A rub of lemongrass oil was swiftly followed by a kiss or a nuzzle.

 

“The oil smells so strongly, Malle. What ever did you bring back from the Moors and crush in the mortar and pestle?” True, the smell was stout, but it was mostly pleasant and made her feet tingle.

 

“It’s lemongrass, dear heart. When rubbed onto sore and swollen skin, it helps make the blood move more smoothly through and alleviates the stuffy feeling,” Maleficent responded matter-of-factly before lathering her hands with more of the oil.

 

A moan escaped the Queen’s lips as she felt Maleficent’s hands knead gently into the backs of her calves. Each night, she’d been awaking every hour or so with cramping in her back, thighs, and calves. Maleficent had been uncannily calm about the episodes, shushing her and rubbing her back to sleep each time. It was a wonder how her faery glowed with contentment and hummed happily.

 

Aurora felt miserable, and on more than one occasion had apologized to servant and lover alike for her cutting words, unladylike attitude and shouting. What annoyed her most was the knowing smile that seemed to pass between them whenever it happened. “You’ve never, _ever_ been so delighted to be home at our castle, Malle. What is going on in that pretty head of yours?”

 

“Not a thing, not a thing at all for you to worry about, my darling.” Maleficent leaned back onto the carpets that lay at Aurora’s feet. She didn’t want Aurora to know how nervous she was, or truly frightened at the prospect of their child’s imminent birth. She’d hid it in humming wordless songs that were really prayers, and putting all of her energy towards being positive.

 

The midwives had been whispering for days out of Aurora’s hearing about how the Queen was the biggest they’d ever seen a woman, even at a full human pregnancy gestation of nine moons. They did not think it would be an easy birth, so they’d clandestinely begun to collect their tools of the trade: Chamomile to soothe the queen’s nerves, red raspberry and spearmint leaves to brew a tea to make the labor come easier, rose hips for strength, cranberries to avoid infection. Even a poultice of wood betony, blue cohosh and wild hyssop had been prepared and dried for future use. She had asked what it was for, and wished she hadn’t. It was for her Aurora’s pain, to lessen it so she wouldn’t give up pushing. First time mothers often would plead to give up, they’d tittered.

 

As if the Gods had heard her thinking, Aurora gave a sharp shout and then cried out, leaning forward and clutching at her stomach.   She’d had stomache upset for most of the evening and into this early morning, and Maleficent knew that the baby was readying itself. Now, it was prepared to make it’s journey into life; it’s soul had arrived. Rushing forward to catch Aurora in her arms, Maleficent bellowed as loudly as she could for the midwives and boiling water. Whatever humans did with boiling water at a birth, she didn’t know… But they always requested it.

 

Aurora laughed then, and petted at Maleficent’s arms. “Take me to our bed, Malle. I need to lay down, the pain is…” A hiss escaped her lips then, and her eyes squinted towards the fluffy, safe haven. Grasping Maleficent with one arm and her belly clutched in the other, slow but steady steps won the race. A trail of waters went from the fireplace to the edge of the bed, and Maleficent smelled blood.

 

Her wings bristled together. Faeries didn’t bleed when they gave birth, or nearly at all. Blood was a very bad thing, a sign of something gone wrong. She was thrust back six months prior to her own…delicate issue. “Why is she bleeding?!” she demanded of the two _mydwifs,_ who were settling Aurora and cooing gently at her.

 

“’Tis normal for a person, my Lady,” the younger of the two answered, dipping into a curtsey. “Now, if you’ll not mind me asking, but it is time for you to wait outside the chambers. We cannot perform our works with such a…crowd.”

 

“A crowd you say?” Maleficent countered dispassionately, eyes roaming the room where there was naught another person but the nursemaids bringing in fresh linens.

 

The senior, plump midwife came towards them, nearly crouched in her age. Clutching Maleficent at the elbow, she tugged the tall faery down to peer into her ancient eyes. “You’ll not do your bhean chéile[3] any good barking at us, daugher of Lysander. I’s come and git’ you when the work is done.”

 

With that, Maleficent found herself unceremoniously deposited outside of the chamber, the door shut firmly in her face. She didn’t recall having walked there.

 

 

 

[1] The Pavan was a walking dance common in the Renaissance.

[2] Noble Host – an angel

[3] bhean chéile - wife


	8. Creideamh a Bheith Agat (Believe that each day which breaks is your last...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Thank you all so much for your kind reviews, follows, and reads.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:
> 
> Athair Ar Neamh – Enya (Part I)
> 
> Awakening – Sleeping Beauty Original Motion Picture Soundtrack, (Part II and III)
> 
> As always, reads and reviews are very appreciated. XOXO, readers!

Maleficent paced the many hallways that circled the immediate radius of her beloved’s bedchamber. Back and forth she trekked, bare feet stomping in frustration, worry and distress.   The only pause she gave was when Aurora would shriek, the echoes travelling down the hall to her sensitive ears.

 

Another cry followed by intense panting resonated through the passages, and Maleficent hesitated. Closing her eyes, her wings came around her in a protective embrace that she wished Aurora could feel at this very moment. Her feet were even sore, after walking these same stones for over eight hours.

 

The gentlemen of the small council had followed the sound of the shouting hours ago, and set up camp in the meeting room around the table. Food and drink was passed in and out by kitchen lasses, but none of it appealed to the distraught faery that passed their doorway now and then. Finally, a man aged around thirty rose from the desk in the corner, pushing his chair back and stuffing the quill into its keeper.

 

“Where d’you think you’re off to, Lord Alec?” an older, grey councilor asked. He had been a hold over from Stefan’s council, but was a good man at heart. Lord Cuthbert had been disgusted at Stefan’s overtaking of the kingdom by attempted murder of a Fair Folk and murder of the king. He never voiced his opinions until it was safe to do so. The only time it seemed safe to voice that one was in support of the Moorland creatures was when one was in residence. He sighed inwardly as Maleficent stood stock still at another scream, just outside their door. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was a gargoyle, for she stood so _very_ still in those moments.

 

“Why’re you so upset, Mistress?” Alec studiously ignored Cuthbert, and pushed his way outside the chambers. Several of the men turned in awe or horror at the man’s tactless questioning. Coins began skittering across the table in silent bets made with blinking; who would survive this tete-a-tete? Alec’s chances were slim, the silver coins for his victory not even nearing the amount already bet for a boy-heir to be born.

 

“I beg your pardon?” Maleficent turned painfully slow towards her inquisitor, eyes slitted furiously.

 

“Why’re you so troubled that our Queen is in pain while birthing our heir? Did you not curse her to die when she was but a baby? Will you curse this one too, if it takes her from you? Some women are hearty about birthin’ bairns, but our Queen is slender,” Alec stated airily, as if the prospect of being without the Queen brought his mind pleasure.

 

The tall faery easily towered over Lord Alec by three inches, and as she brought herself to height and slowly transversed the hall. To meet his eyes, she had to peer down. She whispered with feigned interest, “Are you next in line for the throne after Queen Aurora, Lord Alec?”

 

Alec took the flash of deadly blue ire that came across her eyes as a warning, and felt his trousers grow a bit damp underneath his long tunic. She had come to the crux of his jealousy within seconds – the bane of his existence was shown for all by her mere deductions. “Ye….Yes, Mistress Maleficent. I am. If anything were to happen to you or the Queen, I would be regent for the…child.” A deep gulp filled his screaming lungs with air, and he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath.

 

A look of pure delight came across Maleficent’s face, then. Alec took seconds to appear confused, and then realized his life had been forfeit in his admission. A chill crossed his throat, and Alec comprehended much too late that Maleficent had wrapped her strong fingers around his neck. A second hand joined her first, and she squeezed while lifting him just off of his toes.

 

“ ** _Look me in the eye when you insult my family.”_** A snarl met Alec’s ears as the last thing he heard; his vision popped and windpipe collapsed. Realizing she’d gone too far and offed the poor sod, she let him fall to the floor like a rag doll. Though his intentions were vindictive, she’d meant to injure and frighten…and possibly lock him in the deepest dungeon.

 

Turning towards the councilors staring at the scene with bated breath, she smiled cruelly and gave a throaty chuckle. “It would _seem_ that I am not in a joking mood this evening. _Oh, dear._ Shall I pay his family the expense of the loss of a son?”

 

Lord Cuthbert quickly reached across the large table, gathering all the coinage present. “N..no, Mistress. We’ll do the errand for you. Y’were provoked and threatened. No need to feel sorry for it.”

 

Maleficent eyed the elderly aristocrat calmly and took a centering breath, exhaling while eyeing the others present. “Indeed,” she asserted.

 

Rapid clomping of feet advanced towards the group gathered, followed by Aurora’s most pained calling yet. A nursemaid rounded the corner finally, out of breath. “Mistress, Mistress…you must come!”

 

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As Maleficent burst into the bedchamber, the pants of the Queen had become short and rapid. She ran to the side of the bed and knelt, grasping Aurora’s hand in her own and laying hungry eyes on her for the first time in nearly half a day. What met her eyes was heartbreaking to the faery that wished she could take every pain from the sweet woman.

Aurora’s cheeks were as red as geraniums in the springtide, and her lips purple and chapped from choking off screams. Her beautiful cerulean eyes were clouded in pain, and the whites now pink with broken vessels. “Malle… I cannot do it anymore. Please…” she puffed.

 

The older midwife shook her head and took Maleficent’s hand in her own. “The lass cannot help it, the second babe isn’t cooperating.”

 

“S…second?” Maleficent sputtered. A wrenching groan escaped Aurora’s lips, and the dripping of blood met Maleficent’s elfin ears.   She felt instantly cold with dread. “There are two-born-together?”

 

“Aye, Mistress. I need you to get behind her and hold her up. She doesn’t have the strength for it anymore. She kept telling us that you could talk to the babe, calm it. It will nae’ calm down, thrashing about when I try to turn it. ‘Tis frightened,” the younger midwife answered.

 

Maleficent spared a longing glance at the squalling infant being snuggled and rocked by a nurse a good ten feet away, and crawled into the bed behind Aurora. Clasping her hands around Aurora’s midriff, she closed her eyes and began to murmur incantations, her green and gold magick nearly immediately calming the babe. Aurora took a relieved breath, and Maleficent lifted her hands hesitantly.

 

Too soon. As her slender white hands left the bruised abdomen, the faery babe began to thrash anew. Overly tired, Aurora did not even protest what should have been a horrible onslaught of pain. Almost as silent as breath, the Queen was trying to talk to Maleficent, who craned down to the Queen’s lips.

 

“Let me die… save her. Let…me…die. Letmedie, letmedie.” The words nearly destroyed Maleficent’s heart, and angered her.

 

“You will _not_ give up, Beastie.” Gasps arose around them as Maleficent used her pet name for the Queen. “You _will_ make it through, just as so many women have before you. I will help.” Steeling herself to calm, she began to work the sleeping magick over Aurora’s womb once more. She was pushing so very hard at the edges of the babe’s consciousness, she even felt Aurora nestle deeper within her arms in lethargy. Maleficent glared at the midwife who she knew was itching to turn the baby from within and guide it out. “Do it.”

 

The faery closed her eyes and ears against the sights and sounds occurring around her and nuzzled the Queen’s hair, holding her just a bit tighter.   If she tried hard enough, she could ignore the infant bawling in the corner, the squelching sound of birth, another babe’s howl and the chatter of the nursemaids who were spreading the news already through the castle to the seamstresses standing outside the door, who would in turn tell the washerwomen and so on.

 

The elder midwife shook Maleficent from her reverie with a craggy but grateful smile. “You’ve two daughters, Your Majesty...Mistress.”

 

The clop of wooden soled peasant shoes met her ears as each nursemaid presented the babies to the women in bed. The first-born was still snuffling about, rooting into her blankets in search of love and touch. Fiery red, wispy curls topped her head, and emerald wings poked just out of the swaddle. The second-born was eerily silent, and opened its eyes as if wondering at the world around her. Maleficent was shocked to see the same color eyes as her own, with a shock of nearly white hair.

 

“Their names?” a page softly requested from just inside the opened chamber door.

 

Aurora looked up at Maleficent’s beatific face and beamed herself. The pain that she was entirely sure was the worst she’d ever experience besides death was already wearing off, heart convincing her to love her children instantly. She realized that she would do it all over again, twice…maybe three times…if only for the sight of her wee lasses. “You know my choices and your own. What shall we decide?”

 

Maleficent laid back, snuggling Aurora with her, much to the consternation of the nurses working at the Queen below the sheets. She didn’t care; her love was safe and their miracles had arrived. Fixing the page with a regal eye, she spoke slowly and evenly to ensure he understood.

 

“The fiery one is Sola Rose. The quiet one is Isobel Yvaine.”

 

The page nodded quickly and leapt to his task of spreading the news of the princesses’ birth times and names, especially for the court astrologer.

 

Aurora closed her eyes to rest against the heart of her faery, soothing her with it’s lulling th-thump, th-thump. “I know that we had decided Sola _or_ Rose, but Isobel Yvaine?”

 

“Do you not like it?” Maleficent wondered aloud, taken slightly aback and worried.

 

“No, I _do_. I really do… But what does it mean?” Aurora yawned.

 

Relief colored Maleficent’s mind as she answered, “Isobel means Pledged to the Gods. Yvaine is Evening Star. I prayed, and I pleaded, and the Gods let her be born safely. The stars had just come out when you brought her into the world.”

 

Aurora reached for the fair-haired babe from the nurse and snuggled her close. She spread the swaddling blankets wide and laid the baby in her lap, admiring the larger and stronger of the sisters. Her wings were in stark contrast to her hair; as Aurora spread the tiny appendages that curled over the babe’s back like a shell, she noted that they looked very similar in color to Maleficent’s wings, but with a glimmer of dark, shimmering blue rather than her love’s bronze undertones.

Maleficent stiffened slightly as she saw Aurora examine Isobel’s wings, but relaxed when she heard the Queen murmur, “Beautiful.” Reaching over to take the child from the Queen and re-wrap her, she watched as Aurora grasped Sola and began her summary examination of her brood. Maleficent had to smirk at this – it was a very natural human behavior, but puzzling to her all the same. A faery would be overjoyed at the beauty held within these two babes… that, and they were not covered in downy hair and in need of exchange.

 

Sola whimpered slightly once unwrapped, and grasped Aurora’s index finger, bringing it to her mouth to suckle. Once dried, her hair looked like a sunset to Maleficent. Aurora petted the princess’s jade and golden wings. The wings were the exact color of Maleficent’s magick, and it brought a cheeky grin to the Queen. “Hungry little thing, isn’t she?”

 

“Yes, I suppose. She seems to be the needy one.” Maleficent said evenly.

 

“Needy?” Aurora teased. “Malle, she’s just a baby… and wants our attention.”

 

Maleficent shook her head minutely and smiled. Aurora would learn that each faery had distinct personalities that belied their cool exteriors. Sola was decidedly… needy. Snuggly and tiny, with delectably edible toes ripe for nibbling and cheeks begging to be pinched, she decided. If Maleficent wasn’t sure the baby couldn’t cast a spell of love over her, she would have been convinced she had. Her heart felt so full of love, she felt it could burst like a swollen dam.

 

The midwives showed them both how to position the babies so that they could begin to suckle, and they both took to it well. Aurora’s face, etched in a ‘oh!’ of surprise, made Maleficent snicker slightly under her breath. “Hungry beasties, are they?”

 

It earned her a rightful glare from the Queen, who then summarily burst into the most beautiful laughter Maleficent had heard in weeks.

 

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A Christening was planned for the Princesses’ first time at court. There was very strict tradition about this: there needed to be seventy days after they had been born, plus the forty days after their mother had been churched. [1] Maleficent had declared the Christian rituals and time frames idiotic, but went along with it to appease the peasants who clung so hard to the tortured God hung on a cross.

 

“A grand celebration for babies… how _wonderful,”_ she teased as she nuzzled noses with Sola, lifting her aloft out of the cradle. The baby squealed in delight, her wings flapping gaily. Isobel watched from the cradle and met her mother’s eyes, sticking her thumb into her pert mouth and looking quite dour. “Yes, Bel. I rather think fancy dresses and crowds of people are annoying, too,” Maleficent spoke. The baby huffed, and closed her eyes.

 

Aurora chortled from her dressing table. “Maleficent, would you please allow the nurses to dress them? They cannot attend their Christening naked as jaybirds but for diapers.”

 

Maleficent peered at the nervous maids lined up with shimmering, glittery outfits, shaped rather like potato sacks with slits at the back for the babies’ wings. She had been assured the little dresses gave the appearance of riches while still being comfortable. Their little caps were lined with the softest of fleece, with the itchy embroidery and laces on top, away from their fragile skin. She wished more consideration had been made for her own clothing, which pinched and pulled at her. She’d ripped the sleeves off of many in her guile, claiming haste in dressing had torn the gentle fabrics. How she longed for her roomy robes, with their easy sinew cordage wrapped around her torso for definition.

 

As the nurse took Sola from her arms, she busied herself entertaining Bel, who was attempting to follow her sister with her eyes and struggling against a cry when she could no longer see the beloved sibling. A mobile of crystals, leaves, acorns, and baubles shimmered and circled over the cradle, and Bel cooed a rare, gummy grin. Maleficent was pleased that the somewhat petulant baby at least liked the childhood collection of trinkets she had flown to the Moors for and assembled.

 

Aurora had grown used to the fact that her babies were so very intelligent at such an early age, but the nurses were still wary. It pleased them that the girls no longer squalled for no reason but would stop when the object of their desire or displeasure had been dealt with, but the looks of semi-cognizance, sitting up and flapping their wings, and babbling at four months was a bit much for them to wrap their heads around.   Maleficent was pleased at their progress and made no qualms about bragging how smart and beautiful ‘her girls’ were. It made the seed of hope that had been deposited inside Queen Aurora’s heart the first time that she and Maleficent had kissed on the lips six years ago grow to a grand oak in one fell swoop. Perhaps true love did conquer all.

 

The Queen and faery consort rose to meet each other’s outstretched hands, and walked towards the grand hall, babies in the arms of their nurses. Once they entered, great trumpters blew their horns and their arrival announced. Aurora assumed her position on the throne, with Maleficent lounging at her feet, ready at a moment to defend. The babies’ large round bassinet was within the faery’s direct reach, as she had insisted. It had gladdened Aurora’s heart when Maleficent had made that executive order – she had always wondered why her own bassinet had been placed _so far out of reach_. According to Maleficent, it had been a good three large paces from her parents’ thrones… and much easier to curse. Knowing the maltreatment of King Stefan of her beloved Maleficent, Aurora shivered at the thought that not even being held close by her father would have stopped the curse.

 

Guests began to arrive, and many more in numbers were slated to attend the glorious occasion. The herald’s staff knocked twice for each announcement of arrivals, stating the noble house to which each group or guest belonged and their ties.

 

After the hall was nearly full, a gust of strong wind knocked the doors open wide and the candles on the chandeliers were snuffed out.   The nobility and gentry winced, hiding their heads and ducking. Aurora gasped in fear, grasping so tightly onto Maleficent’s arm that she thought the faery might break. Maleficent, for her part, had risen quickly to snatch the princesses from their blankets, holding them firmly to her breast. Her left wing curled firmly around the Queen, and the right wing’s talon leaned forward forebodingly, ready to strike.

 

A lone male faery entered the hall then, steps heavy with authority and age. He appeared to be in his late forties, but Maleficent gathered that he was much, much older.

 

His loud voice boomed once he had stopped in the middle of the hall. “Her Majesty Titania, Queen of the Fair Folk, Presider of the Seelie Court, Protector of all Moorlands comes to you, bearing gifts; her grandson and heir, Prince Alexander in attendance.” He nodded a bow to Queen Aurora and Maleficent, and stood aside.

 

Maleficent clutched the Princesses even closer; eyes glazed blue and roiling wildly to any escape options.   Aurora began to pant in fear at this reaction from her Protector and lover, especially when she realized if Maleficent were to raise a hand or spell against their visitor, that she and Aurora were most certainly doomed.

 

A woman, disguisedly diminutive and elegant in age, with hair so lustrous it looked like silver walked slowly into the cavernous room, a young teenage boy following. Her gown was hard to look at for long, luminescent and shining as if made of diamonds. Her circlet of fine silver upon her forehead was such fine work; the human smiths even leaned forward to glean a glance. The boy huffed in boredom, as if entering in such a fashion was normality for him. He seemed rather average, but his face was kind and handsome, and eyes as dark as inky evening. Their wings were white and glittering, and the peerage could tell that these were formidable visitors.

 

The Queen of the Fair Folk stopped five feet or so in front of the dais, and held up her hands in supplication.   With a flash of annoyance at Maleficent’s still stiff posture that was quickly squashed by regality, she greeted them.

 

“Queen Aurora, named aptly for the dawn… and _Maleficent_ , diligent Protector of these Moors. I greet you, great grand-niece.”

 

 

 

 

[1] Churching - In Christian tradition the **churching** is the ceremony wherein a blessing is given to mothers after recovery from childbirth. The ceremony includes thanksgiving for the woman's survival of childbirth, and is performed even when the child is stillborn, or has died unbaptized. Although the ceremony itself contains no elements of ritual purification, it was related to Jewish practice as noted in Leviticus 12:2-8, where women were purified after giving birth.

 


	9. An Dlí Trí (The Rule of Three)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Thanks for the reads and reviews! I’d love to see reviews/constructive criticism from fresh faces. Please, don’t be shy!
> 
>  
> 
> Some of you PMed regarding the newer characters introduced, I had the idea of doing some photo manipulations for our “cast.” Everyone likes to “see” what they’re reading, amirite? Link to the gallery is on my profile, if you’re interested.
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> “Gently as she goes,” as sung by Erutan
> 
> “Come Little Children,” Erutan

Queen Titania waved her arm to the assembled peerage, gentlemen and gentlewomen and nobility. Amethyst magick swirled as she ordered firmly “Make merry, observe but have no worry.” People once as scared as cattle being pushed towards the butcher house began to smile, laugh, eat and drink once more.   They watched the unfolding scene as if removed from it. Maleficent narrowed her eyes at her grandmother’s aunt as the magick flowed over the guards, but did not come close to the dais. Titania wanted her and Aurora’s fear and complicity all at once. A coil of terror began to unfurl in the pit of Maleficent’s belly, and began to make her physically ill. The Faery Queen perceived this, and smirked.

 

She came closer, reaching out for the babes nestled behind Maleficent’s protective wings. They sat up and wriggled to be free, curious at the glowing woman that grasped for them. She was _so_ very pretty, they thought.

 

At Maleficent’s silent refusal to hand the babes over for her royal presentation, Titania glared. Her great grand-niece would learn, and she would be pleased to teach her. Firmness and slight admonishment layered in her words. “What are their names, my darlings?”

 

Aurora answered, slightly breathless in her combined fright and wish to appease. “The Princesses are named Sola Rose and Isobel Yvaine, your Majesty.” A hiccupping sob escaped her throat, but she swallowed against it. ‘Good girl,’ Titania thought. The Queen of the Humans was a stronger wench than she had figured. She’d have to be, to bear two full term faeries. Jealousy filled Titania’s mind in an instant, and she allowed it to permeate. How unfair, that this wisp of a girl had true love _and_ two fine-looking babes?

 

“You did a fine job with the incantation, Maleficent. They do not retain too much of the human’s face… but they have her lovely coloring. Except, daresay that Sola looks just like your mother. Oh yes, she was once human as well… wasn’t she?”

 

Aurora looked sideways at Maleficent in confusion. She’d never quite received backhanded compliments to her face before. The audacity hurt her heart; she’d nearly died holding on long enough for Isobel to be brought from her, and Maleficent’s own kin was comparing her to a broodmare, speaking as if she could not understand. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and she frowned at the Faery Queen.

 

Maleficent _did_ defend her, but not in a way she’d expected. “Come now Aunt Titania…” a soft, fearful and strangely submissive pleading, “My Aurora was blessed with Fae beauty at birth, and I love her as she is. She is the mother of my children.”

 

A grand sigh blew threw Titania’s lips as if she were put off. “Very well, Maleficent. At least she is beautiful enough to compliment your… dark handsomeness. I _am_ truly sorry I wasn’t able to relieve you of those horns when I relieved Ulla of her… _duties._ ”

 

Maleficent stiffened under Aurora’s touch, and the Queen leaned her cheek to her faery’s shoulder in a show of empathy. Maleficent knew that three things existed in her great grand-aunt’s mind before all others: Beauty (hers above all others,) Jealousy, and the Laws… though she liked to break them herself. She wondered that if Titania had been able to rid her of the horns she’d been cursed with, would she have struck her down that day so long ago for her innocence and loveliness?

 

Titania interrupted her reverie, then. Clearing her throat loudly, she announced to the hall, “Listen well, all of you. I am to bestow gifts to the Princesses.” Her heliotrope lilac and amethyst power glowed intensely in anticipation. Aurora shrunk back into her throne, trembling.   Titania’s eyes followed the path from Maleficent’s arms to their bassinet, in a silent order.

 

“Dearest Aunt…” Maleficent entreated, her voice dying.

 

“Now, Maleficent… that’s quite enough. Put the babes in their basket and be done with this. Tch! You spend too much times with the _daoine._ Your actions stink of their fear. _”_ _ **[1]**_ Queen Titania thrust her right hand at a court minstrel and ordered the troupe to begin playing, while her left hand reached for the babes, the magick caressing them. The girls cooed in delight, and Maleficent’s wing was forced down and away, eliciting a grunt of pain from the younger faery. The Princesses floated as if on air, squealing and giggling all the way to their bassinet two feet away. They were set down with the utmost care, and for that Maleficent was thankful and gulped in a breath of delicious air. Her wings, arms, and feet were still frozen by the spells pouring out of the Faery Queen, and she begged Aurora’s eyes with her own not to do anything foolish.

 

The court minstrels played a lazy, happy tune, unaware of any emotion but bliss, and the babies’ eyes became droopy. Queen Titania smiled down lovingly at the two wee halflings and began her blessing. “Sweet Sola… I bless you with beauty and passion. Lips, ripe as the berries in June: red the Rose, red the Rose; skin, pale as the light of the moon, gently as she goes. Darling Isobel… I bless you with knowledge and integrity. Eyes, blue as the sea and the sky: water flows, water flows. Heart, burning like fire in the night, gently as she goes.”

 

Aurora was entranced. Perhaps Queen Titania truly did love their children, and meant to gift them. Perhaps there was nothing to be afraid of. _“Those are lovely gifts,”_ she whispered, but shook herself quickly out of the suggestive state she’d fallen into. Déjà vu cut her like a knife.

 

The Faery Queen thrust her index finger against her lips and glared at Aurora. “Hush, my human Queen. I have one more gift to bestow.”

 

“ _No_ … my Queen…Aunt Titania. They’re but innocent babies.” Maleficent gasped, straining against the magick that held her. “We do not need a third gift. The two is enough.”

 

Titania observed her niece, made weak by the love of the human. True, the Laws of Magick made certain that Maleficent had learned her lesson about cursing drastically and without forethought. It had put the solution to her curse so tantalizingly in the lips of they very same cursed maiden. The Faery Queen had waited long to place her judgement and that of the Seelie Court, though. The Rule of Three made it implicitly clear that for every action, the universe would return your actions three-fold. She’d heard when Maleficent had lost her first of three children, and was pleased with the judgement of her sister, Queen Mabh of the Unseelie Court. She’d made sure to brag of it to Titania as they passed one another earlier in the seasons. Titania would pass the second action, and karma the third. The Universe always did the best workings.

 

“Now, Maleficent… You know how magick works. Do what you will, _without harm._ What you do will come back to you three-fold. If you had sought justice against the human king for what he did to you, all you needed to do was ask. Now, it falls upon myself to penalize you. I’ll try not to be… as cruel as Mabh was with your wee Luna.” A cool smile crossed Queen Titania’s lips then, and she motioned Prince Alexander towards the bassinet. “Choose, Alexander. “

 

Aurora began to sob under her breath, then. Looking around at their guards and revelers, who still continued to act as if nothing was amiss, to her beloved who was quaking beneath her touch and not only incapable but _unwilling_ to go against the Faery Queen, lest they be struck down too. She was out of her throne in a flash, before the cloying amethyst could clutch her, and found herself at the feet of the Seelie Prince. Aurora tugged on his wing as if a toddler. “Please… Please! Don’t hurt them. I’ll do anything!”

 

Maleficent’s heart was beating so fast, she thought she might die. She fought against the purple chains holding her still, grunting and keening. “Aurora! No, Aurora!” she shouted.

 

Prince Alexander paused to regard the human woman pulling at his delicate feathers. He supposed that she deserved better than his indifference, seeing as what his grandmother had planned for one of her children. Turning slowly, he reached down and hugged the emotional mother, lifting her into his arms. “My lovely cousin, I will not harm them. I swear it.” Looking down quickly to the girls, who had long since fallen asleep curled into each other’s wings, he tried to let his heart be his guide. It was so very difficult to do so with the high tension swirling around him. Then, inspiration hit him. “Wouldn’t it be better, as justice for Queen Aurora, that she pick which two of the girls to send to our court as my consort?”

 

“ _Justice?”_ Aurora gnashed her teeth together. “I do not want your justice! They are my daughters!”

 

Prince Alexander held her tightly, as if afraid that she would strike the Faery Queen or himself. Perhaps he was right in his assessment, she thought. A flare of rage was searing her heart, the embers growing hotter and hotter by the moment.

 

“Ah! What a pleasant surprise and gentle choice, my dear Alexander,” Queen Titania cackled. “Hmmmm… Indeed.   Aurora? Aurora dearest, you shall have the choice. By the evening of their sixteenth birthday, send one of the girls to us. Send them both, if they’re willing to experience the life they were born for. If you do not… I shall collect them.” The command was as hard and cold as granite, and Aurora sagged in Alexander’s arms. He placed a tender kiss to her forehead as one would a treasure, and settled her back into her throne. Maleficent snarled and bit at him as he leaned back. His dulcet, midnight eyes glittered at her and his mouth turned in amusement. “I think it’s high time we’ve made our leave, Grandmother. My cousin makes to thrash me.”

 

With a bow from Alexander, and a nod from Titania, a snap of the fingers was heard. They were gone, and the magick lifted from the courtiers, and Maleficent. She rose up to her feet and screamed in anguish, head thrown back.   Back under the tables the courtiers went, frightened at their memories of the evening that seemed joyful though they knew rightly that what happened was tragedy.

 

 

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“Maleficent.” Aurora poked the large wing that lay across the bed and onto the floor. “Maleficent, get up.” Nothing happened. Not a moan, or a grumble.   The Queen was tempted to bite onto some of the naked flesh of Maleficent’s arms that were folded underneath long auburn hair. Her anger these days simmered just beneath the surface; unfortunately, Maleficent was often the object of her ire. A few days ago, her faery had stopped talking to her.   Today, she refused to get out of bed, her pale eyes staring intently at the canopy of their bed rather than Aurora. Two weeks had passed since the Princesses’ disastrous Christening, and never had Queen Aurora felt quite so hopeless.

 

“I know what youuuuu neeeeeed,” Aurora sang, though not particularly convincingly. “How about a nice flight together, hmm? The nursemaids can handle the girls for a few hours.”

 

Maleficent closed her eyes and shut her ears. She had failed Aurora, and failed their daughters. Feeling quite sorry for herself, she turned the pain inward. When Aurora would lash out at her, she drank in the spite and pain greedily as if it were the most delicious and rare wine. She deserved this. Her left wing relaxed even further and it drooped to the floor in defeat.

 

If Aurora could not see the rise and fall of her love’s back, and the expanding of the shapely ribs that peeked from underneath their sheets, she was sure anyone entering would assume she’d killed the faery.   A feather pillow clenched between her fingers, and she curled them so tightly it caused her pain. Yes, yes… they’d think she’d smothered her. A giggle of sheer madness bubbled out of her throat, and she fell back against the bed, right atop Maleficent’s wing. She didn’t care if it made the faery uncomfortable – she was ignoring Aurora, and it burned worse than a thousand suns.

 

But then, the supple spine and well-defined shoulders facing her were quite interesting.   She traced them with her fingernails gently to illicit a shiver that she craved.   When none came, she dug down into the extremely sensitive flesh between the wings with her nails, grasping as if attempting to hold onto their love for dear life.   Her mistake was the hurt behind her actions, which Maleficent felt all too much.

 

Bolting upwards, Maleficent screeched like a wounded animal, grasping back at her shoulders. Aurora tumbled out of the bed with an ‘oomph.’ “What are you **_doing_** , Aurora?” she shouted. “Wound me all you like for my faults, but never these!”

 

Aurora crawled meekly back towards the bed, aware that her nakedness was on display. She’d gotten Maleficent to talk. Perhaps she could bring her out of the self-loathing, and Maleficent could help her out of her own. “I’m sorry, Malle. I just… miss your touch. And, your voice. And, your hugs.” The young queen sat herself akimbo in front of the faery and grasped at the hands that clenched at their sheets.

 

“You wish my touch and my voice when for days you’ve been cursing my very presence?” Maleficent hissed like a viper. “Let us be honest, dear Beastie. You crave base things this morning, even though you’re still angry at me. You _pinched at my wings._ ”

 

The fire within Aurora’s heart burned like a furnace out of control. Venom laced her tongue as she sniped, “Well, at least then you’d be doing something, other than just laying there. Just like you sat there as your own children were cursed.” As soon as the words were out, her hands clapped over her lips.

 

Maleficent rose quickly, threw a loose earthen silk robe over her wings and tied off the waist, not bothering to close it around her breasts in haste. That very chest was heaving with words and emotions she could barely grasp hold to. Her wings twitched. ‘Flee. Flee!’ the muscles screamed.

 

Out the window she leapt, Aurora screaming her name and grabbing the wings in a slippery grip.   The Queen fell back with the gust of wind made from the faery’s take off, hands curled around four crumpled quills. A scream rent her mouth; full of pain and the regret in her soul.

 

 

[1] Daoine – humans


	10. Cuimhnigh Cén fáth (Remember Why)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Yep, I know I laid the angst on pretty thick last chapter. Good news is, now we get to see some flashback to when they were younger in their courtship. Have fun!
> 
> Chapter soundtrack: (You guys are enjoying the music, right?)
> 
> “Hope Has a Place,” Enya
> 
> “Loved Me Back to Life,” Celine Dion
> 
>  

Aurora sat in the greenhouse gardens with the princesses in their pram. Her hair was frazzled, half up with pieces dangling about her face. She wasn’t sure, but she thought that she’d worn this same dress three times this week. Councilors, courtiers and maids alike watched nervously from the hallways as if she were an exhibit. ‘Well, that was my own doing, I suppose. I did tell them to get out and not to approach me under pain of imprisonment.’ She shuddered. The words had been so unlike her, but she did not wish to see or hear any pity for her or the babies any longer. Maleficent had been gone a month: thirty torturous, empty, bleak days.

 

Three pixies, who were very bad at listening to anything she said, were hovering in and out of the bushes, their faery glow giving them away on the gray winter day. They peered at her over leaves and from around flowers, tutting and hushing each other. Isobel began to wake, and sat up. Her eyes darted about the greenhouse, in search of something very specific. Blue-green irises swirled in annoyance as they met her mother, and an empty bench next to her.   Why did her mother not understand what she needed? Suddenly, her eyes were wet and blurry.

 

As Isobel began to squall, Aurora took a deep breath. Reaching into the pram and bringing her out, she began to sing a lullaby to calm the princess – something she was sure wouldn’t work until Bel fell fast asleep. “Who has lungs of steel, hmm?” she bounced the Princess on her lap. “Bel, you never cried like this before. Whatever has gotten you so upset, my sweet? Hush…Hush….” Aurora spoke in desperation. She wasn’t sure she could endure another day full of Isobel’s heartbroken calls and shrieks. She knew why the babe was crying, but she refused to name the source of the pain aloud. It was that point of contention between mother and child that made the babe sob all the more.   Sola cried here and there, as usual. But, her actions this past week had been to comfort her sibling, babbling and smooshing her face. She’d even pulled one of her feathers and presented it to her sister as a gift. When it was smacked away, even Sola began to cry. Bel’s cries crescendoed, and died off. The girls snuggled together, and Bel babbled “Amamamam” sadly.

 

“Augh!” Aurora grunted loudly, and pulled on her rat’s nest of hair. She had tried everything she could think of: sent letters to the Moors, pleading forgiveness and declaring love. She even had the farmer’s wives near the border baking non-stop, leaving piles of cakes for her love.   Though they’d seen the faery whip into the tree line, half dressed and crazed, they had also reported the notes and treats all untouched. Maleficent would not be moved. Aurora couldn’t very well go back to the Moors without someone to watch the babies… someone that could warn her if something was amiss.

 

“Lemme talk t’her, I said! I have a message!” A commotion was rising in the hallway, and Aurora turned blearily towards the noise. Diaval’s face poked above the councilors’, who were trying to discern from the raven man what he meant to tell Aurora. They weren’t being rude to him so much as fearing for the servant of Maleficent against the Queen’s warned punishments.

 

Sighing inelegantly, she looked at the girls in the pram and back to Diaval. “Well, if your mother has sent us a message finally, then we must listen, hmm? If we must, we must.” She turned back to the group of people, now arguing loudly and commanded, “Diaval!”

 

As courtiers who thought he was about to be punished unceremoniously dumped him inside, Diaval smiled. If the situation weren’t so dire, he would joke to make the Queen smile back at him. He stood up, brushing himself off. “May I approach, Aur… Your Majesty?” He dipped his head in deference, but somehow retained a bird-like bob.

 

Aurora exhaled and nodded. “Of course, Diaval. Whatever are you doing here, and as a man?”

 

“Well, y’see…” he fidgeted. Aurora recognized he was trying to come up with a story as he went.

 

“The truth, Diaval.” Her chin straightened and she fixed him with a stare.

 

“Of course, ‘Rora. It’s Maleficent. She’s not doing tae well out in the Moors all by herself.” He pulled his hand from inside a pocket and grasped the many feathers he’d secretly collected and stored in his nest after his Mistress had thrown them out of the tree. Depositing them on Aurora’s lap, he continued. “She’s got herself in a right dither. She’s molting in winter!” he exclaimed.

 

“Is anything else the matter?” Aurora questioned, twisting a quill between her feathers while staring down at the pile in her skirts. She wanted to hear Diaval say that Maleficent missed her, and had said so.

 

Instead, Diaval cocked his head to the side and laughed, “Anything else the matter, other than the Mistress walking about like some half plucked chicken, hiding her wings under heavy cloaks so she donnae freeze herself? Nae.” He smirked, knowing what Aurora was playing at. His two women friends could be so very stubborn, sometimes. His hand reached out and held the top of Aurora’s, and he sat next to her. Suddenly serious, he beseeched her eyes. “She doesn’t know I’m here, y’know. I asked her to change me to a man so I could bathe in a warm inn instead of the cold stream. I snuck away, and here I be.” He looked down at the faery babes in their wheeled cot, sleeping now. “I’ll watch ‘em while you go to her, Aurora. You were an easy babe. I kin handle the two.”

 

As Aurora leapt forward to hug him, he grinned. Perhaps his Mistress wouldn’t roast him like a quail when this was all said and done. “Take two horses wif’ you. I donnae think she can fly back, and is what’s takin’ her so long,” he whispered into the Queen’s ear. It was true, he thought. Her pride was even too wounded to ask him, though the question lay on the tip of her tongue every day.

 

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The white mares galloped over the well-travelled pathways, the lead carrying the Queen through the snowy hillocks and plains. Townspeople and farmers alike watched the procession with intensity. Ever since the Queen’s faery consort had flown back to the forests deep, it had gotten colder. Snows fell in deeper piles, and even the plants and herbs brought inside for the winter began to wilt. They hoped that the faery and the queen would bring each other to heel. They cheered their lovely Queen on, waving handkerchiefs out of windows and waving her out of their little towns as her fur cloaks blew behind her.

 

Inside the Moors, in her great tree, Maleficent slept uneasily into the late afternoon. Her heart was sore, and her body ached from the cold. She trembled under the three furs even though she was fully cloaked in velvet and had her hair wrapped.    A bright light shone in the corner of her basket-like home, and the faery lifted her hands to her eyes to block it. A voice whispered to her “Maleficent…” Humming followed, like a lullaby.   The beams of light kissed her cheeks and left warmth where they touched.   Sitting up quickly, she blinked blearily towards the source of the light, but found nothing.   “Maleficent…” the voice whispered again, this time loudly from outside the tree. Scrambling down the ladder, the faery spotted a head of bright red hair entering the trees. An intruder!

 

She didn’t realize that her feet were bare against the frosty grasses and that her cloak had been left behind in her haste. Dragging her useless, fuzzy wings behind her, Maleficent padded quickly over the dead leaves that littered the ground, ready to fertilize in spring. Around and into the trees she swept, chasing the flaming gold hair. Getting frustrated at her lack of speed against this invader, she began to yell. “Go on! Leave, now! You’re not welcome without permission…. GO!”

 

Aurora trotted the horses to stop in front of the entrance to the Moors where there was a goodly sized farm.   Gianna’s son had taken over this past year, and was glad to keep the horses for a bit.   She lifted her saddlebags off of the lead mare, shrugging it over her heavily cloaked shoulders. Walking towards the boundary line, she heard shouting. Was that Maleficent? Heart in her throat, she started jogging clumsily in her boots. By the trees was a woman, she was sure. But as she blinked, the woman was gone. Shaking her head, she tried to recall the long, flowing green robes and buttercup colored hair. As she stopped at the spot where the woman had disappeared, she turned back towards the farm and heaved in gulps of steaming air.   Without warning, Maleficent leapt out of the trees and knocked her down, screaming.

 

Aurora sputtered snow out of her mouth and wrestled onto her back, smacking back the weak slaps the faery was throwing. “Malle, stop! It’s Aurora… It’s me!”

 

Realization cut through Maleficent’s eyes, and she sat back on her haunches quickly. “Aurora!” she exclaimed in worry, but her traitorous heart jabbed her with a reminder that the woman beneath her thighs had hurt her very recently, and sent a jolt of pain. The faery’s eyes narrowed, and she squeezed her legs together, holding the Queen firmly to the snow. “What are you doing here? Did you see the woman I was chasing before you got in the way?”

 

Aurora glared back and pushed ineffectively at the velvety skirts on her chest. “I came to see you! I’ve been so worried and… I didn’t get in the way! I was standing where she disappeared!”

 

“Disappeared?” Maleficent scoffed, and then her eyes softened. The woman, whomever she was, had called her to the very spot Aurora stood. A frown crossed her lips, and she dismissed the idea that she’d been hallucinating, since Aurora had seen the woman, too. How infuriating. Leaning back to fall on her now freezing feet, she reached a hand around Aurora’s upper arm and yanked the Queen upwards, roughly embracing her to hide her tears. “Hello, Beastie.”

 

“Hullo…” a soft and warm sensation met her breasts as the Queen spoke her answer inside their embrace. Aurora pulled back to look at Maleficent with a critical eye. Her hair was wrapped again, against the cold, but wisps fell out near forehead and at the back. One ear had escaped its prison, leaving the headdress slightly askew. Lips were bare and nearly white in the temperatures. Even her eyes were lighter than before, but somehow duller.   She knew she had to do something to help her love, but she knew apologies would be thrown back at such an early junction. No, something easier would need to come first.

 

Aurora pointed to a copse of trees a half a mile up the valley side. “Come back to the cottage with me, Malle.” With a nod of agreement from the faery, they stood completely and began the walk.   Aurora’s hand itched to hold Maleficent’s, but she grasped it against her cloaks. Halfway to their glen, Maleficent began to grunt minutely in pain. Turning towards her, Aurora didn’t even say anything, lest an argument begin. Slipping her boots off, she reached down for the delicate feet and encased them in the warm leathers. Standing up, she wrapped her outermost furs around the faery’s broad shoulders, tugging firmly to draw her in for another embrace.

 

Maleficent was the one to break the embrace, her face passive but eyes shouting. Wide and pained, the eyes turned back towards the cottage, and she began trekking once more. Aurora jogged a bit to catch up, the cold snow beginning to bite at her feet through her woolen stockings. They reached the small, overgrown cottage and let themselves inside. A fine layer of dust covered the surfaces, and Maleficent spared a small murmur and a flick of a hand to rid the hovel of the lingering dirt.

 

Aurora nodded her thanks, and turned to the fireplace, putting kindling over the large logs and striking a match. Blowing gently on the growing embers, Maleficent watched the Queen become again the young woman in the cottage at the edge of the Moors. Her eyes softened, and she slowly relaxed into a chair. Before she knew it, she was fast asleep.

 

 _“Maleficent…”_ an ethereal voice called to her at the edge of consciousness. She followed it in her mind, into a dream that glowed at the edges of her closed eyes.   The deeper she went into the dream, the louder the insistent voice became.

 

“ _Mal’lia **[1]**_ , my darling girl. _There you are._ Why are you always hiding?” the voice teased, and the faery stared up into the glowing woman’s eyes. Iced teal eyes met mossy green and stormy blue ones, as she walked closer.   The golden woman was reaching for her and she was pulled up into her lap. _Was… was she small?_

 

“Mother…?” she croaked, surprised that her voice once again sounded girly, lisping and innocent. The shining woman nodded, and held her closer in the warm embrace.

 

She spoke gently into her ears, but with a commanding tone that only mothers knew. “Maleficent, remember why you love her.” A swirl of mist clouded her vision of the dream-mother, and she felt herself being moved.

 

“What… Mother? Mother!” she called, her voice again adult. The mists parted to reveal the cottage, but it wasn’t from today. Surfaces gleamed with wood polish and it looked well lived in. ‘Ah, from when Aurora would spend her evenings here, rather than our tree,‘ she deduced. That put Aurora around…

 

“Happy 18th Birthday!” the voices cheered. Maleficent twisted ‘round to see then-Prince Phillip, full-sized pixies Knotgrass, Flittle, Thistlewit, and a few close human friends of Aurora’s. Maleficent looked down to see the navy blue robe that Flittle had gifted her earlier in the week to wear for the special occasion.

 

Suddenly, Aurora’s hands slipped into her own. Looking up, the guests had disappeared and the sun seemed lower in the sky outside the open leaded-glass windows. “Maleficent, I’ve received so many precious gifts today. I love the silver hair comb that you had made for me.” A smile graced the rounder and younger face of her love, and then quickly fell. “I just hoped that my wish would come true…” the Queen huffed at her cake.

 

“And what is your wish, Aurora?” Maleficent heard herself say again, without feeling the urge to. How very strange. It was like being outside herself, but still able to see through her own eyes.

 

Aurora turned towards Maleficent and gulped deeply. The young woman took a quick breath of courage and began to unlace her dress.

 

“Wha…What ever are you doing, Aurora?” the faery stammered, hands quickly atop the Queen’s to still them.

 

Stepping back quickly from her hands, Aurora shook her head. “You’re always going on about how you’ll do anything I ask of you… protect me, stay with me always… but every time I try to get closer to you, it feels as if you put miles between us.” The eighteen year olds soft eyes turned fiery, then. Quickly unlacing her dress once more, she let it slip over the front of her shoulders and down to the floor. “Love me, Maleficent. You’re my True Love, and I command you to love me.”

 

Maleficent remembered protesting at that juncture of the evening, and Aurora naughtily finding ways to unsettle her – brushing hands heavily over her shoulder blades and spine, stealing kisses and climbing her as she would a tree.   She had tried so hard to get the young Queen to dress again, but each time the woman had giggled and done something else, even after Maleficent had threatened to leave.

 

The dream had taken her there. Finally, fed up with resisting her feelings any more, Maleficent had caught Aurora in the clasp of her wings, kissing her with abandon. Her teeth sought the woman’s rosy lips, and they bit down gently and sucked.   “Are you sure?” Aurora had responded by cupping her rear end underneath the navy robes and slyly grinning, cheeks aflame.  

 

“Naughty Beastie,” Maleficent had choked out. Grasping touches, kisses and much exploration had commenced upon Aurora’s teenage bed, making the faery feel more than a little embarrassed and thrilled at the same time. How many times had she put Aurora to bed here? Hundreds?  

 

All too soon for her liking in the dreamscape, Maleficent’s fingers sought Aurora’s velvety skin beneath the downy curls. As they slid inside, she remembered whispering an apology and hushing the young woman, who writhed and shuddered beneath her caresses.   She recalled…

 

“You’re… you’re a maiden, still?” disbelief colored her words as she stared in wonder at the gloriously naked woman beneath her. Sweat clung to her breasts like morning dew.

 

“Hush, and love me.” Aurora had responded, her hand clasping against Maleficent’s to push her fingers the rest of the way in, against the resistance her body put forth. After wincing slightly, the Queen had sighed in relief. “Now, I am truly yours.”

 

“Aurora, you have always been mine!” Maleficent had chattered back, suddenly frightened. Her hand was frozen; afraid of hurting the one thing she loved most, even if in her ardor.

 

Soft, flaxen curls shook with the smiling face that leaned up to steal another smoldering kiss from the faery. Aurora’s hips began to move against her hand then, and she murmured in pleasure into Maleficent’s ear as her tentative hand began to move as well. “Ah, but not like this. I am only yours, and you are only mine. And anyone else that has ever hurt you this way? I erase them forever. I command it.”

 

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Aurora traced the arched brow of her lover. They were enveloped in down blankets, snuggled down into the comfortable country mattress of feathers and cotton that Aurora missed most at the palace. Maleficent had fallen asleep nearly as soon as she had sat down at the dining table, and for a moment the evening before, Aurora had truly wondered how she would get Maleficent into bed.

 

Her hungry gaze fell to the faery’s lips, but she held off from claiming them yet. Aurora did not want Maleficent to ever think she’d take advantage of her, and they still hadn’t resolved their conflict yet. Clean of their typical claret stain, they were undeniably soft looking and inviting. She realized that Maleficent looked a good ten years younger this way, and felt like she knew a secret nobody else knew.   The glamour of the lip-stain was normally ever present when Aurora was around, even when they were abed. She preferred this, almost. It laid bare vulnerability.

 

As if she could feel the heated stare, Maleficent’s eyes opened drowsily, and she gazed at Aurora with a look of contentment.   Reaching up to stroke the Queen’s cheek tenderly, her sleep-weary voice asked, “How did you get me to bed last evening?”

 

Aurora smiled mischievously and rested her cheek on the fuzz and down of Maleficent’s nearly naked wing. “I was worried, truthfully. You are so much taller than I, and I was afraid that you’d fall over and catch me on the way down,” she playfully tugged the base of the faery’s horns. “But, I decided I’d try to talk you through it. You followed me rather willingly, your eyes still closed and mumbling…” Aurora’s face turned frightened then, and she stopped.

 

Curious now, Maleficent drew Aurora’s chin up to look at her directly. “What did I say?”

 

Blushing furiously, the young woman stuttered a bit. “Oh, you know. The usual…that you were very tired and very cold. Then, you called out for your Mother. I’ve never heard you do that before.” Aurora paused, looking warily for a reaction. Seeing none, she continued. “Then, you asked me to love you, a lot. You said you were sorry too, but I don’t expect…” A long finger drew itself across her lips to hush her silently.

 

“I _am_ sorry, Beastie. More than you’ll probably ever know. I got here, and I surmised that I’d stay long enough to repair any damage done in our absence, and to say hello to everyone. I’m sorry that I could not protect you from my Aunt, and infinitely sorry to our daughters that I could not protect them, either. “ Her voice broke momentarily, “All three of them. I truly didn’t mean to stay away for so long, but… my wings. I cannot have people see me like this. It’s degrading.”

 

Aurora nodded, humming in agreement. “I am sorry, too. I said things in anger that I never meant, nor ever would. You are my heart, and I see now that I am proud of you for not using violence as an answer.” She paused, thoughtful. “Perhaps for just the ride home, you can wear one of the extra fur cloaks I’ve brought. Nobody will know the wiser if you keep your wings tucked under. Once we’re back at the castle, we’ll figure out our next step.”

 

“Our next step? Aurora, you would forgive me so easily for abandoning you and our children for an entire month?” Maleficent asked, astonished.

 

Aurora didn’t reply, but merely burrowed closer between her breasts. “Oh, of course I forgive you. Quarrels are normal, and we’ll always get through them. You could do me one thing, though.”

 

“Anything you ask for, as usual,” came the immediate reply.

 

“Love me. I command it,” the Queen’s soft authority made the request so much sweeter than the first time she had ever uttered it.

 

“I thought you’d never ask.” Maleficent drew Aurora close, and claimed her lips once more.

 

[1] Mal’lia – Maleficent’s mother and father were killed when she was extremely young in the War with the Humans. I assume that she’d been at the very least potty trained and knew how to walk, because in the Book accompaniment to the Disney movie, the rest of the fae took care of her until she was grown. It would have been kind of hard with a defenseless baby. In the original movie script, however… Maleficent was raised by her Aunt Ulla and Uncle Kinloch, who came back to the Moors to do so. Her Aunt was cruel, and gave her the name she has today because she blamed the innocent child for the deaths of her parents. I figured that her original name had to be something similar that was twisted into a cruel amalgamation by her aunt after their death.


	11. Pleanáil Mionsonraithe (Painstaking Plans)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: So, for today’s update, we’re taking a bit of an unusual detour. This chapter follows up the previous chapter in the same time frame. I had intended the first part of this chapter to be fluffy before I got to the logistics. Well… It’s very citrusy. The plot bunnies made me do it.
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter Sountrack:
> 
> Home, Sweet Home as sung by Erutan

 

Aurora boiled pot after pot of water over the tripod in the fireplace, lamenting the small area that the kitchen resided in their cottage near the Moors.   It was going to take nearly half the day for Maleficent to take a bath, even if Aurora only washed up. But, she would take small victories as they came. Maleficent rarely liked full immersion baths. When her wings got wet, they typically took days to fully dry, even with Aurora taking small chamois cloths to each feather in assistance.

 

However, when they’d finally gotten out of bed today, Maleficent couldn’t help but look… well, itchy. She fidgeted constantly, purposefully catching her wings on the wall, floors, or furniture in an attempt to secretly scratch what irritated her. It was rather comical to the Queen, as Maleficent rarely fidgeted over anything. She was typically her staid self, rarely showing the breadth of her emotions – whether they be joy or discomfort. Her status quo usually fell on “general displeasure,” and with that thought, Aurora smiled and chuckled to herself.   It was the exact opposite of what she heard coming from the bed chamber. The faery had holed herself up in there, naked as the day she was born to await her bath, and was scratching the living daylights out of every inch of wingspan. The noises were…well, unusual. If Aurora was the jealous type, she’d be bemused at the pleasure escaping from her lover’s lips. Scritch, scratch. Bump. Moan.

 

At long last, the last pot of water was poured into the steaming copper tub in the middle of the living space. “Malle,” she called softly. “Your bath is ready.”

 

The door to the bedchamber popped open a crack, and a wary green eye peeked out at her. “Is it quite done steaming like you’re going to stew me?”

 

“Don’t be cantankerous.” Aurora warned, humor lacing her voice. “You were half frozen when I found you. It will be good for you.”

 

Opening the door slowly, Maleficent strode elegantly towards the tub with as much dignity as she could muster. Turning away to cough a laugh into her palm, Aurora settled on the bench nearby while she heard the water slosh.

 

“Well, I am in the stewpot. Best cut up your tatties and neeps[1] now,” she heard the stern voice turn grumpy. Well, two could play at this game.

 

“You forgot the part where we scald the chicken to get the remaining feathers off. You still have your undercoat of down, dearest.” Aurora murmured, her voice deadly serious and lips pressed together as she leered over the faery.

 

“Tch! Bite your tongue!” Maleficent’s eyes flashed, and Aurora figured she’d had enough of playing… for now.

 

Kneeling next to the tub, the Queen picked up the soap resting on the bench and began to lather it in a chamois. Reaching forward for a wing, she was surprised when it lifted soggily out of the bathtub and thrust her backwards, leaving her a sputtering wet mess.

 

“I do remember how to bathe, Beastie.” But, instead of washing, Maleficent sat aloof in the rapidly cooling water. She hadn’t even gotten her hair wet yet.

 

Clearing her throat, Aurora feigned back to the fireplace area. Grasping an earthenware jug full of drinking water that she had melted from snow earlier, she toed slowly towards the tub. As she passed Maleficent’s immediate vicinity, the jug upended, spilling cool water atop the faery’s dry, but dirty hair. Before she could spit the water out of her nose and mouth, Aurora had attacked her scalp with the lavender soap. Scritch, scratch… moan.

 

“Ohh,” a pleased and surprised voice wafted from below the clouds of steam. Nodding silently to herself, Aurora kept up her lathering. Behind the elfin ears, and down the sensitive and swan like neck; between the valley of breasts, and back over the taut shoulders to the downy, almost curly feathers. These she paid special attention to, massaging the fragrant foam into the well-defined muscles that she rarely felt so intimately without three layers of flight quills in the way.

 

“Aurora, you play with fire,” came a hiss of desire from the body beneath the suds.   Humming in agreement, Aurora kept her hands kneading the muscles, and then working to the ticklish underarms covered in fine patches of auburn hair as soft as a baby’s. As she reached downwards and brushed below the navel with the cloth, Maleficent’s hands held hers for a moment, and the faery’s burning eyes met her own. Tug!

 

Aurora was pulled quickly into the tiny tub, which was already overflowing with her lithe mate. A cackle of amusement rose from underneath drenched hair that she could now barely make the face out underneath.

 

“Augh, Maleficent! I had only meant to wash up! Now we’ll be forever riding back to the castle,” the little Queen huffed her own blonde curls back from her face, as she saw her lover wipe auburn tresses from her own eyes. A wicked smile met her eyes. Once-again crimson lips blew bubbles lazily from an upturned palm onto Aurora’s nose.

 

“Oh, come, now. That was funny,” a sensual smirk replaced the sinful grin on Maleficent’s face.   “And now since I’ve gotten you sopping wet anyhow, I might as well finish the job.”   Her hands darted towards Aurora’s cotton shift, which was now plastered to the woman’s body. Tugging it over Aurora’s head and throwing it in a soaking heap on the floor, she nimbly walked her fingers up her darling’s ribcage, grasping her even more into the tub. Seeking more room, she lazily draped both legs out of either side of the tub, bent at the knee.

 

Aurora nestled in between the creamy thighs, and sought Maleficent’s mouth with her own. Tongues played for dominance, and teeth scraped lips and nipped playfully. Suddenly, Maleficent stilled and threw her head back in a gasp as Aurora’s hands found the faery’s center, rubbing against the sensitive pearl there gently.  

 

“Aurora…heart, don’t stop. Please, _don’t stop_.” Maleficent’s glorious neck was stretched and exposed, and Aurora hungrily licked the bathwater off of her pulse points, nibbling and biting here and there as her hands worked below. From the mewling sounds coming from the faery’s throat, the Queen knew she was drawing near the edge.

 

“More?” she blew the word more than spoke it into the shell of Maleficent’s ear. A whimper was her answer, and the scoot of a bum underwater. Aurora beamed against the panting mouth, as she stole another kiss… and another.

 

Tender fingers slid into Maleficent, one at a time. Stars burst behind her eyes, and she felt as if she were flying. She was vaguely aware of the bathwater sloshing over the sides of the bath as her body asked for more…and more, of it’s own accord. Her fingers wound into her Beastie’s golden tresses, and she kissed her queen with unbridled passion. Breaking away for air, the coil deep in her belly sprang out of control, and she trembled and shook with the pleasure. Who was screaming so loudly?

 

“My, my… You are a vision,” her naughty Beastie spoke into her left ear now, before latching onto the lobe and sucking it between her silken lips. Gods above, she’d created a monster.

 

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The two women rode in companionable silence, walking and trotting the lead mare through fields and pathways. Maleficent had scoffed at the idea of riding on her own horse, and placed the woman atop the mare with just a blanket for tack. She then leapt behind Aurora, snuggling her close.  

 

“I am cold in my current condition,” she reasoned, staring into Aurora’s eyes as if daring a rebuke. The Queen simply shook her head and giggled girlishly, pushing her rear further back towards Maleficent.  

 

A grunt and an impassioned sigh. “Behave, Beastie. We have to talk seriously now. I want you to tell me your ideas on what to do… with Sola and Bel,” Maleficent’s voice was tenderly soft as she spoke the names of her precious daughters.

 

Aurora thought silently for at least a few minutes after turning her head to award the faery a kiss.   Her father had been afraid of the power of the Fair Folk, and entrusted her with three very unqualified pixie nannies. Though she loved her aunties dearly, she knew in her heart that Diaval and Maleficent had saved her on many occasions from starving, or illness.   She couldn’t fathom sending the girls somewhere she did not know where to find in an attempt to protect them. If they couldn’t protect them in their arms, how would separation help? It certainly made quite the mess of things in her parents’ case. However, if she hadn’t been sent to live in the woods at the edge of the Moors, she would never have had Maleficent in her life every day, if only her shadow.  

 

Shaking her head as if to clear it, she began to speak her thoughts aloud. “I don’t think that we can feasibly expect them to be perfectly alright if we assigned another person to care for them. Our hearts would break, and so would the girls.’   Even in your short absence, Isobel has been so very distant and sad. She… she is exactly like you. When you are not near, it’s as if she’s in physical pain. And Sola? If we separated the girls, Sola would surely turn inwards and be miserable. She adores her sister more than anyone. It did my parents no good to send me away, though by happenstance it brought me you. I don’t think we’d be so lucky with our babes.”

 

Maleficent slid her hands inside Aurora’s cloak pockets and clutched her even closer. Resting her chin lightly upon the Queen’s shoulder, she exhaled. “I agree. I couldn’t agree more, darling.”

 

They rode on, their breath fogging as they grew closer to the capitol city and the outlying towns and barrier walls. Citizens of all sort waved, smiling and chattering.   Children walked alongside the horses, grasping at the dresses and furs of their royals, their toothy grins making the women smile. Maleficent let her magick waft over the children who tugged especially on her, pleading for “Blessings, blessings.” She’d tug gold and silver coin from behind their now-clean ears, and even presented some of the small girls with leaf-and-wooden faery dolls that seemed to float down into their outstretched hands. Aurora’s eyes pricked at the loving patience that Maleficent was showing, and sent silent thanks up to the heavens for allowing her love to heal.   There was a time, not so many years ago, that moments like these seemed impossibly far away, if possible at all.

 

“You’re being very benevolent today, Maleficent,” Aurora remarked to the faery, rubbing their cold noses together.

 

“I am happy, bhean chéile[2]. Blissfully, wonderfully content. If we didn’t already have the stress of the girls’ situation, I would think I were dreaming.”

 

Landladies leaned out of their upper windows, cupping their ears to hear their conversation. Some made no secret of how they found their interactions: fawning sighs and tittering carried on behind them, as the kingdom fell a little bit more in love with their own Faery “queen” with each step the horses took.

 

Aurora would sometimes giggle behind her gloved hand at their reactions, but Maleficent shrugged and winked. “Soon, they’ll stop using me as the bogeyman that will come and eat their disobedient children...do you think?”

 

As the sun broached the horizon and truly set for the evening, trumpeters announced their arrival into the castle barbican. Careful to keep her cloak around her fluffy wings, Maleficent dismounted their horse and reached up to bring Aurora down. They walked arm in arm over the bridge and into the lower bailey to hand the horses to the stable boys. As they strolled to the upper bailey, Aurora and Maleficent found a large portion of their court waiting to greet them.

 

But, the most treasured of the faces that were in attendance were that of Princess Sola and Princess Isobel, who clapped their mittened hands merrily at the sight of their mothers. Sola pointed and waved them over, and Bel babbled “Mam!” non-stop. As Maleficent reached for the fair-haired babe, she swung her up into the air with tears of joy. Sola snuggled contentedly into Aurora’s arms, and Diaval breathed in relief. They were finally home.

 

 

 

 

**  
**

 

[1] Tatties and neeps – Potatoes and turnips, a common side dish in the Highlands.

[2] bhean chéile – wife


	12. Scéalta Sídhe (Faerie Tales)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Hey, hey readers and squirrel friends. Hope your holiday weekend was good (if you’re in the USA.) This chapter’s kinda fluffy; hope you enjoy exploring these relationships as much as I do!
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> The Willow Maid by Erutan

Queen Aurora lounged on well appointed rugs and blankets, which were spread across the lawn of the castle’s greenhouse garden. It was one of the first areas of the castle that she’d focused her attentions to upon moving in after her father’s death. She’d tore down the small, dusty glass and iron room and instructed the metal guild to construct this much larger version, replete with curling copper edging and lead glass accents.

 

Thanks to Maleficent’s talents, the space bloomed and sparkled like a slice of the Moors. There was nary a space that wasn’t crawling with green or flowers. Clematis and climbing roses scaled the bronze trellised walls and ceiling. Water flowed from a central fountain, with several small lily ponds through the strolling paths that bubbled with golden carp fish from a neighboring kingdom. Here she and Maleficent could at times feel alone and back home at the Moors, away from the gazing eyes and eavesdropping ears of the royal court. The pixies could often be found here, zipping in and out of blooms and chasing butterflies. Diaval rather enjoyed the dozen or so small trees that also lived here.

 

But no one loved the “faery gardens” quite like the Princesses Sola and Isobel. Often, the Queen had state business to attend, and Maleficent would assist. The girls’ nannies soon realized that they rarely cried or fussed when left to crawl or toddle about the gardens, oohing and ahhing at their surroundings and fluttering their tiny wings. Today, it was a Sunday. Maleficent rolled her eyes when she’d first heard of the Christian “day of rest,” but she was glad of the time alone with her family while the rest of the court attended Mass and luncheon. Even Aurora had skipped Mass today, lounging quite alluringly with her. Blinking rapidly to clear her mind from those distracting thoughts, her eyes focused on Sola crawling towards a stone bench. The 11-month-old Halfling would crawl a bit, and then turn back towards her mothers as if to seek approval. Aurora would smile and wave, but Maleficent stayed very still under her cloak and met the babe’s eyes each time. ‘Yes, I am here,’ she conveyed.

 

Satisfied that she had her mothers’ attention, Sola’s chubby hands grasped the edge of the bench and pulled herself to standing. She walked along the edge of the seat, one hand still grasping. Squealing, she spread her petite wings for balance. She gazed at her napping sister with a superior gleam… and began to toddle towards Maleficent. Aurora choked slightly on a grape she’d been chewing, but Maleficent’s cool hand found her arm and squeezed, willing the Queen to not fuss.   Aurora looked perturbed, but not for long. Maleficent’s smile widened exponentially when the stock-still wings behind their daughter began whooshing on their own. Sola began to hover an inch or so above the grass, and the young princess looked down with eyes as big as saucers.

 

Still, Maleficent did not move, but she spoke firmly. “Sola, come.”

 

Without focusing too much on the fact that she was flying, the Princess’s wings complied for her. With a babble of glee, she clapped “Mama! Fee!”

 

“Yes, fly, “ Maleficent corrected matter-of-factly as she reached out for her fluttering babe, drawing her close against her chest.

 

Aurora’s arms cuddled around her waist, hands feathering their daughter’s curls indulgently. “Sola, you did so well, sweetheart!” Turning her face alongside Maleficent’s, her eyes pleaded. “We should reward her.”

 

Scoffing good naturedly, the faery grinned, “Reward her for performing a bodily function?”

 

“Oh, Malle…” Aurora’s voice teased. “Babies like to be spoiled once in a blue moon.”

 

A tiny voice came from Aurora’s lap, wispy blonde hair and sea blue eyes peeking from underneath the cloak. “Soree. Soree!” Isobel pleaded, lisping around her ever-present thumb. Her sleepy eyes conveyed that she’d not been awake long, but could tell that her winged-mother was in a pleasant and giving mood. Sola, sensing the scales tipping put her best beseeching look on, peered up and cooed again. “Ma, soree?”

 

“Mmmm…well,” Maleficent paused, tapping her chin in thought. “I suppose one story isn’t too much of an imposition for your reward. What kind of story would you like to hear? I’ve many.”

 

The girls looked at each other, minds working in tandem to find a word to reply with in their limited vocabulary. “Fae?” Sola queried sweetly. “Fae.” Isobel nodded, her gaze serious once more.

 

“A faery story? All right then, my lasses. Listen well as I spin your tale.” Standing up and brushing her skirts around her, she began to stalk the garden like a hunter holding a bow. Aurora watched, just as curious and entertained as the wee girls.

 

“A young man walked through the forest with his quiver and hunting bow. He heard a young girl singing, and followed the sound below.” She crouched under a small tree, skirts fanning over her gabled legs. “There, he found the maiden who lived in the willow.” Cupping her hands around her mouth as if to call a distance away, she continued, “He called to her as she listened, from a ring of toadstools red.  
'Come with me my maiden; come from thy willow bed.'” Standing up once more, she gracefully threw herself onto the lowest branch of the tree, combing her long tresses forward and batting her eyelashes. “She looked at him serenely, and only shook her head. She told him: 'see me now, a ray of light in the moon dance. See me now, I cannot leave this place. Hear me now, a strain of song in the forest. Don't ask me to follow where you lead.’” Maleficent then intoned an ethereal string of syllables that sent shivers up Aurora’s spine and mesmerized the twins.

 

Jumping down lithely, she stood straight again in the manner of a gentleman. “Our young man walked through the forest with a flower and coat of green. His love had hair like fire, her eyes an emerald sheen.” Beaming at her family, she warbled like a nightingale as she spoke the story. “She wrapped herself in beauty, so young and so serene. He stood there under the willow, and he gave her the yellow bloom.” Maleficent knelt at the edge of the blankets, grasping her chest as if in deep love.  
“'Girl my heart you've captured, oh I would be your groom.' The girl said she'd wed him never! Not near, nor far, nor soon!” She jumped back as if she’d been burned by the story-girl’s very words. “She told him again 'See me now, a ray of light in the moon dance. See me now, I cannot leave this place. Hear me now, a strain of song in the forest. Don't ask me to follow where you lead…’”

 

Stalking the path once more, her eyes widened in determination and she swung her arm as if carrying tools. “Our young man walked through the forest with an axe sharp as a knife. ‘I'll take the green-eyed faery, and she shall be my wife! With her I'll raise my children, with her I'll live my life,’” she began to chop at the nearest tree with her imaginary axe. Gasping in sadness, she turned once again to the blankets. “The wing’ed maiden _wept_ when she heard him say he'd set her free. He’d took his axe and used it to bring down her ancient tree.” Her eyes blinked glassily. “'Now your willow's fallen, now you belong to me!'”

 

Pausing a moment to shudder her wings underneath her cloak, she clawed her hands, as mothers do when warning of monsters in the night. Her words slowed; voice sounding older than the oceans themselves, and gloomier than the rains. “She followed him out of the forest, and collapsed upon the earth. Her feet had walked _but a distance_ , from the green land of her birth. She faded into a flower that would bloom for just one bright eve… The selfish man could not take from the forest what was never meant to leave.”

 

Upon their cloaks and quilts, Aurora and the princesses stared at her with differing expressions. The girls looked thoughtful, and happy to have received their story. Aurora’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Oh, that _horrible_ man!” she exclaimed.

 

Shaking her long mane over her shoulders once more, Maleficent quirked her lips at her Queen. “Truly, my darling. You have the oddest, most inhuman responses to my faery tales. Most people blame the faery for speaking in riddle to him and not telling him the full truth.”

“Well, she tried!” Aurora insisted. “She told him she’d never want to be his wife, and said she would not leave her home. He killed her spirit to merely possess her!”

 

Maleficent could tell that Aurora was thinking of something far more personal, and crept towards her little family, settling next to the Queen in a protective embrace. “Hush now, darling. ‘Tis but a tale to warn wee faeries of the world of men.”

 

But Aurora would not be deterred. Calmer now, but infinitely sadder, she whispered. “But it’s not _just_ a story, is it?”

 

“No, man has often taken what was not owed him from the Moors,” Maleficent responded, her heart aching.

 

Trumpets blared in the distance to signal the end of Mass and the beginning of luncheon. Lifting Isobel into her embrace, Maleficent leaned her forehead against Aurora’s. “Take Sola, and we shall eat and get our minds on happier things, yes?”

 

**BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB**

Sitting at the head table, each with a girl on their lap, Queen Aurora and Maleficent saw to the individual and personal requests of the court while they ate. It was a rare Sabbath day that they supped in the great hall, and the courtiers took advantage of it.   They approached slowly and with deference, but gaily – truly enamored with their luck to have their monarch, her consort, and their children gracing their presence.

 

Maleficent always listened to what was occurring, filing information away for later when Aurora would certainly ask her opinion. In front of the many residents of the court, her face was kept inert and detached; she’d only lift a brow when a perceived insult was overheard. Today, she focused on cracking hazelnuts and blacknuts between her rear fang teeth and handing the sweet meats inside to the girls, who happily gummed them. When she would crack nuts in this way, it always set the human men on edge. ‘How very odd,’ she thought with a pleased smirk.

 

The metal workers, who had labored nearly to starvation and madness by King Stefan, waited nervously for their turn at speaking. Finally, Lord Cuthbert waved them forward. Clearing his throat, he requested their attention. “Your Majesty, Queen Aurora… and Mistress Maleficent. The metal workers and artisans have been at a project for me in anticipation of the Princesses’ First Name Day. We’re planning quite the jolly occasion, and I thought they might like something pretty.”

 

Having been waved forward once more, the sooty men smiled and bobbed their bows. Their bearded leader spoke first. “Your Royalnesses, ehm… We the metal workers are most glad for your love and devotion to our craft, and keeping us on here. We’re so very… grateful that we are able to work on making this umm, palace a home again with the glassblowers and stonemasons. It made a sorry looking battlement,” he joked lightly. “Ehm, what we’re really trying to say is… thank ye.’ Good Lord Cuthbert came to us with the idea, but ‘tis was our pleasure to carry it out ‘fer him.” Snapping his fingers at a young page at the side of the room, the boy scurried to the group of men carrying a purple velvet pillow. Atop it were two glistening circlets of rose gold, affixed with blooms as delicate as stephanotis. In the center of each bloom, tiny sparkling gems winked in mauve and violet.

 

“We worked at this ore for a goodly while, Majesties. Their crowns’ metal is part true gold and part copper.[1] It t’will not burn them. We can add onto them as the Princesses grow.” He dipped another shallow bow, and wiped a kerchief across his forehead. With a nod from Lord Cuthbert, he reached inside a velvet bag slung on his hip. From it, he drew an even bigger circlet. This one had colors of silver, yellow and rose gold, all interwoven into the intricate patterns favored by the people who lived in the remote highlands. It gave the delicate tiara an air of wildness and elegance, all at once. “This, her Majesty Queen Aurora requested of us. We completed it in record time, in our joy. ‘Tis for you, Mistress.”

 

Aurora sat transfixed by the beauty of the artisan’s work, and Maleficent waited a few beats before responding for her. Shifting Isobel to her hip, she rose gracefully and walked around the table and towards the workers. She was aware of light slipper falls behind her, and turned to face them. Aurora had passed Sola to her nanny, and stood almost shyly before her great height. Maleficent’s eyebrow raised slightly, her uneasiness at being on display evident. Taking the diadem gently from the guild master’s hands, she spoke softly. “My love, dip to my height?”

 

Maleficent’s eyes wandered around the hall momentarily, taking in the display of leaning women fanning their bosoms and puffed up gentlemen.   Focusing back on Aurora, she ducked her head down slowly while closing her eyes against the onslaught of emotion. She perceived the coronet being slipped onto her forehead directly beneath her hairline, the ends of each side settling against the security of her ears. Opening her eyes and gazing with full adoration at Aurora solely, she stood tall once more.

 

Aurora took her hand and curtsied gracefully to her. The Queen had deferred to her in front of her subjects!

“My Queen,” Aurora declared soundly. Applause proclaimed the approval of all present.

 

 

 

###  [1]Rose gold - The highest karat version of rose gold is also known as crown gold, which is 22 karat. Eighteen karat red gold may be made of 25% copper and 75% gold. For 18 karat rose gold, typically about 4% silver is added to 75% gold and 21% copper to give a rose color.

 


	13. Shealbhú Isteach Orm (Cleave Unto Me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Okay, we’re going to jump a bit here, folks. In order to get to major plot points, fast forwarding is required. Don’t be afraid – I have plenty of outtake ideas for this story, and we still have a looooong way to go before our tale is complete. You’re going to get to know the Princesses on a very deep level before we progress forward again.
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> “No One But You,” by Erutan

Seasons had come, and seasons had gone. Princess Isobel felt the slowness of time more keenly than those around her.   It seemed to her at the very least that humans were in constant motion, seeking momentary gain and immediate satisfaction only to have it fall apart more quickly afterwards.   She’d had playmates growing up, to be sure – girls and boys fascinated with her wings, magick, and royalty. Unlike her sister Sola, she’d never found a true bosom friend in any girl. Once the boys around them had begun to show the bravado common to youngsters, she found them even more detestable than the girls. She’d tried to play fight them with wooden swords, but once her superior skill wounded their ego, they’d shut her out once more.

 

Sitting on her favorite bench in the greenhouse gardens, her eyes scanned the long script with curls and waves along the ancient parchment bound in a sort of book.   It had been a gift from Mother for her twelfth Name Day, and she sought to decipher its secrets. She knew that it contained the history of the Fair Folk, along with rules and incantations… but first, she’d need to decode the alphabet and words. Speaking Fae was one thing, but reading it was quite another. The week before, she’d become frustrated with the tome.  

 

“Mother, why in the Gods’ names would you gift me with a book that I cannot read?” Looking back on the question, it was rude and disobedient. Her actions revealed the deeper nature of the girl Isobel saw looking back at her in the mirror: lonely, short-tempered, and pale. Mother’s response had been a long-suffering, withering glare. It was rebuke enough.

 

She didn’t like the young woman that looked back at her, these days. Her wheat colored curls had grown past her rear in her insistence that it not be shorn. The sun’s rays had bleached it near white, as she would fly with Mother in the Moors, whispering their work in creating and repairing the gentle life that bloomed there.   Her eyes were full of depth, but there seemed to be no end to the distance. A vast expanse lay in her pupils. If the residents of either the castle or Moors looked too long into them, they would fidget uncomfortably. ‘Ugly. Odd,” she mused.

‘Even Sola and sweet Mama look away after a few moments,’ she pondered. Only Mother would meet her stare, silently communicating with her eyes the same endless fathoms.

 

Huffing stubbornly in her mind, she itched against the tight dress of courtly attire that held her newly budding breasts fast to her heart. She often found it hard to breathe in the stays and ties. Ripping at her tight neckline with sharp, overgrown fingernails that were ever stained with the inks of her studies and the dirt of the earth, she closed her eyes to calm.

 

A tickle met her spine just above the laces of her corset, and then a tug. She knew that touch, and leaned back. The knot became undone, and she breathed deeply. Once her stays had loosened, another tug met her spine as the garment was once again secured.

 

“Mother…” her quiet but melodic voice acknowledged the presence of the only person who truly _saw_ her.

 

A swish of light robes met her ears, and her mam[[1]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftn1) sat on the bench with a flourish. “Bel,” she granted a rare toothy smile. “I think you ought to borrow my robes until the wardrobe can sew more. They can shorten my robes much faster than they can make new. You’re growing leaps and bounds. Soon, I’ll have to stand on a stool to chastise you.”

 

An inelegant snort sounded from the Princess’ lips then, and she looked at Maleficent with an awkward, crooked grimace. Her wings twitched, and her eyes fell back to her book. While Isobel was indeed tall for her age, the top of her head only came to Maleficent’s shoulder. Mama and Sola were much shorter than Mother. She felt out of place and neither here nor there.

 

Impatient for the respect due to her, Maleficent slid the volume from Isobel’s grasp and set it aside. Grasping the young woman’s chin in her taloned fingertips, she lifted Bel’s eyes to meet her own once more. “Isobel, it does no good to ignore your body’s changes to suit your fractiousness. Nature cannot be argued against, nor bargained with. I grew into my body, and so shall you.”

 

Isobel shook her head minutely in silent defiance against the steely grip, but looked her Mother in the eye. Over the edge of her diadem hung a portion of her beautiful mahogany hair, but what was stranger than Maleficent’s slightly unkempt appearance was the streak of dove gray through the piece of runaway locks. The princess’ stomach clenched in fear as she examined her Mother even more closely. Interspersed with the rest of the shiny mane were individual hairs of grey and white, barely noticeable unless one was looking for them. Crows feet lined the corners of the great faery’s deep eyes. A human might not have noticed these changes except for the larger streak of grey, but the keen faery eye did.

 

“Mother… what are these?” she questioned concernedly, brushing her fingers against the fine lines. Faeries didn’t _wrinkle._

 

Maleficent dropped Isobel’s chin as if she’d been branded with iron, and turned the side of her head with the grey away from her daughter’s view. “Oh, never you mind. The human crown weighs heavily upon your poor mother’s head.” She chuckled then, but the sound was hollow to Isobel. The princess narrowed her eyes in suspicion and stalked away, her posture telling of her displeasure without words. Diaval cawed from his tree, and his mate peeked her head out as well.

 

“Yes Diaval, she is indeed just like me.” Maleficent responded, worry lacing her every word. Little did she know that when she left the greenhouse garden for her bedchambers with Aurora moments later, a certain faery princess floated after her, pausing every so often to ensure her Mother did not see.

 

“Solasa mhúchadh. Dofheicthemaroíche,[[2]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftn2)” Isobel chanted almost silently as Maleficent’s footfalls and then wing strokes faded down the hall. Her Mother was hiding something, and she was determined to find out what. Faeries lived very long lives – sometimes until they were 300 for the smaller fair folk, and nearing eternity for a Tuatha fae well versed in self-preserving magick. Something was sapping Maleficent’s energy, and she wasn’t fixing it fast enough for Isobel not to notice.

 

‘Mother is distracted, then...’ Isobel deduced while fluttering down the halls. ‘How very strange.’ She’d never known a more singularly dedicated creature than her own mother to the theory that appearances equalled power over the observer.

 

Upon watching Maleficent enter her bedchambers for the evening, she cancelled her incantation. “Críochnaithe,[[3]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftn3)” she intoned, and nearly jumped a mile high when a voice spoke next to her.

 

“I _knew_ it was you.” Sola smirked, fingers tapping her elbows as her arms crossed. Looking expectantly at her twin, the red headed maiden waited for her explanation. She knew that Isobel spoke slowly, piecing her words together carefully. Some children thought her daft, but Sola knew better... much better.

 

Isobel looked down at her petite twin, and twisted a lock of her hair in affection. “Mother is hiding something. She had gray hair and wrinkles in the garden earlier. She’s healing something, but not healing herself. Either that, or she’s healing something so often that her body isn’t producing magick fast enough to counter it.”

 

“WHAT!?” Sola exclaimed, only to be shushed by Isobel’s insistent hand covering her coral pink lips.

 

“Are ye’ madder n’a March hare, Sola?!” Isobel stage whispered. “Mother will punish us both horrible if she finds us snooping!”

 

Sola’s eyes widened and she nodded quickly. “So what are we goin’ tae do, Bel?”

 

Isobel waved her hands in a lazy circle around her sister’s head and torso, mauve and gold magick swirling and she murmured her newest spell. Once Sola had faded away, she spoke almost imperceptibly. “Okay, Soso?”

 

A disembodied voice giggled. “This is _so_ beyond the pale, Bel. I feel all shifty. You’re so much better at this than I am.”

 

Cloaking herself in darkness once more, Isobel laid out the plan. “Okay, we’re goin’ to fly out the main hall window and land on Mam’s balcony.   We should get a pretty good idea of what’s going on, then. And, you’d be better at magick if you focused on spending more time with Mother and I in the Moors, rather than spending time with dodgy boys.” Her voice belied a silent ache that her own twin preferred the company of idgits to her.

 

The girls fluttered as quietly as they could, landing lightly on the balls of their feet in front of the stained glass window of a rose surrounded by briars, drawing blood. They’d always thought the window was disgusting, but their mothers refused to replace it. Gods knew why, it was an ugly thing.

 

Ducking low, even though they were as dark as the night outside and nearly invisible to each other, the princesses peered over the top of the sill at their mothers. They strained elfin ears towards the heavy glass.

 

**BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB**

Aurora sat at her dressing table, nearly asleep with fatigue. She perked up upon hearing the door to the bedchamber open, and the familiar swish of wings and rustle of flowy silks. “Darling...” she implored quietly.

 

In a flash, Maleficent was standing behind her, hands curled over her tiny shoulders. “I am here.” The statement meant far more than the three words said aloud, and Aurora closed her eyes once more against the sleepiness that plagued her.

 

“Hold on, my sweetling. I am here now...” Maleficent said as if shushing a babe. Aurora’s long hair had been capped up in a silk lined gold snood studded with pearls, and she unpinned it carefully. Being mindful of the weight of her touch, whisper soft hands combed the hair back, releasing the snood. The faery stared down in anxious and thinly veiled melancholy. Aurora’s once thick crown of golden hair was thin and dull now. Many strands laced Maleficent’s hands, gentle as she was. The human queen’s temples beneath the silk had turned white once more, despite all of the work she’d done the evening before to combat the advance.

 

If maids or councilors had inquired within the past month as to the state of Queen Aurora, they had bought themselves time by spinning a tale of upset stomach, followed by contagious cough. When doctors wished to examine her, they knew the jig was up, and began the painstaking process of glamoring Aurora each evening to look hale and hearty. To fight the physical symptoms, Maleficent had been releasing bits of her own life essence into her, leaving the faery breathless and trembling. The girls had been kept away with excuses to let their Mama rest.

 

Aurora reached up and rested her hand atop Maleficent’s on her shoulder. The eyes that met her own in the mirror were anguished. “There is no news from the Seelie court as to permission to change me?”

 

“None,” Maleficent answered, the desperation seeping into her voice.

 

“Then we shall have to keep holding on.” Aurora sat straighter and firmed her quivering upper lip. The pain in her body made itself aware sharply then, and her lower lip betrayed her. She crumbled into a sob and laid her head on the table top. Maleficent, for her part, said nothing. She didn’t need to – her emotions were the same as her dearest one was expressing. Instead, her hands petted the brittle hair and skinny shoulders as if they were the finest spun gold.  

 

“For the girls’ sake, they must’nt know,” the faery reminded. “It would crush them if they knew your suffering. Besides, if I must change you myself without permission, I am willing to bide my punishment. You must tell them I had to go away on a distant trade mission to a faraway kingdom if I am bound by my Aunt. They’ll see me again in a few years...”

 

“But I won’t!” Aurora gasped, horrified at what Maleficent was suggesting. “You must not break the Laws, Malle. _Promise me._ ”

 

“Promise what, Aurora?” Maleficent’s words were cutting now in their anger, and defeat. “Promise that I’ll watch my truest love fade away, her life’s essence ebbing away as I watch helplessly? You’re thirty-five. _Thirty-five!_ You’re far too young to be taken by this marasmus.[[4]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftn4)”

 

Queen Aurora smiled lightly then. “My birth mother was taken by this when I was but ten years old, the courtiers tell me. She died alone, and in great sadness. I shall have my true love by my side.”

 

Maleficent didn’t reply, but slipped Aurora’s dressing gown over her shoulders after she’d unlaced it. The more skin was revealed, the more the darkness in her heart was growing. The queen was becoming alarmingly thin, and was cold as ice. Her circulation was becoming poor. A brick of hatred lodged itself in her chest against the selfish Queen Titania of the Seelie Court. If only she would give the permission, Maleficent would have flown Aurora weeks ago to the Moors, allowing the natural magick to do the rest. Her love would have wings to fly. Her love would live. She knew that this wasn’t unintentional: if Aurora was removed from the equation, and Maleficent driven mad with grief... it wouldn’t be a stretch for Titania to take the girls as wards in her “infinite mercy.”   The human kingdom would be in shambles, with one monarch dead and the other suffering the manic fits.  

Sliding her arms gently around Aurora, she cradled the tiny woman to her chest and laid her upon their bed, crawling under the many blankets with her.   Skin-to-skin, this would have been a much different evening so very short a time ago. Now, Maleficent ran her hands up and down the Queen’s shivering arms and willed herself to _be warmer, be stronger_. “Cleave unto me, my darling. Hold me as close as you can bear it.”

 

Gold filaments and wisps exhaled from garnet lips to pale ones. Suddenly, Aurora opened her eyes and shook her head as firmly as she could manage. “No, Malle. You’re hurting yourself. No more.”

 

“I’ll be more hurt without you, Aurora,” Maleficent warned, eyes wild.

 

Nodding once in submission, Aurora closed her eyes. She didn’t have the strength for one more word.

 

Outside the window, Sola and Isobel watched helplessly. Inarticulate blubbering was coming from Sola, but Isobel was a picture of rage. Who would do this to Mother? Who would deny Mama life? Quickly breathing the reverse hex for their invisibility, she leapt off the balcony without a word, her wings buffeting the sharp and icy winds. Onwards she glided, towards the Moors. She _would_ find the solution. She _must._

 

Sola wailed and reached for her sister, only to have the window slam open and her now acutely aware mother reach outside to grab her backwards. “No, Sola!” she begged, sounding a mite bit unhinged.

 

“BEL! _Isobel Yvaine!_ ” Maleficent called against the growing blizzard, a sob lodged firmly in her throat. Yes... yes, she was indeed just like her mother.

 

**BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB**

Onwards past their kingdom’s Moors Isobel flew, teeth chattering and eyelashes frozen. The next Moors were only an hour’s flight away, and she was never more glad for her wings. On foot, the journey through the treacherous mountain tops would have taken weeks.

 

High atop the tallest peaks, there was a patch of verdant green – an odd oasis in the middle of the brutal storm. She dove sharply towards it, hands and feet numbing more by the moment.

 

Once inside the protective enchantments, the temperature rose a few degrees to just below freezing, and the evergreens were blooming. Climbing one, she rested on an ancient bough and rubbed her raw feet warm.

 

“Hello,” a voice as light as gossamer and as venomous as a viper said. Bel jumped, nearly falling out of the great Fir.

 

A hand as white as snow snatched at her, and pulled her upright. Out of the darkness of the tree depths came a face that matched: alabaster as a pearl, with ice blue eyes. Lashes as black as deepest night framed the wide irises, and they bled tears of charcoal. Lips the color of coal, but somehow inhumanly beautiful curled into a predatory grin.

 

Isobel screeched in fear, yanking against the firm grip. “Please, donnae harm me! I am here because I seek help! My Mama needs help!”

 

Eerily sweet laughter floated over the breeze. “Oh, my dear. I would never harm the spawn of Maleficent herself. _Sweet_ Isobel... come to say hello to your Auntie Mabh[[5]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftn5), eh?”

 

  

[[1]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftnref1) Mam – affectionate term for a mother.

[[2]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftnref2) solasa mhúchadh. dofheicthemaroíche. – Extinguish light, invisible as night.

[[3]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftnref3) Críochnaithe – Finished. (I am finished.)

 

[[4]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftnref4) marasmus – Bronze Age vernacular, wasting away disease, often thought to be undiagnosed cancer.

[[5]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftnref5) Mabh – (Scottish,) Maeve (Irish.) Faery Queen of the Unseelies (Dark Fae.) Also the darker forces of nature in the Celtic Triquetra (three sided knot,) representing Maiden, Mother, and Crone.


	14. Codladh, mo áilleacht (Sleep, My Beauty)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: There are two new uploads to the photo manipulations album for Changeling at my Photobucket, showing the Princesses as teenagers. Be sure to visit my profile and pop over!
> 
> Props to Disney for not-fluffy, killer plot bunnies utilized in this chapter.
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> “You’re Not Alone,” as sung by Erutan

Sola’s fiery locks draped over the prone, slumbering form of her Mama. Her slender arms held the woman fiercely, and she willed herself to cry no more. It was a difficult thing to convince her mind of, especially when willowy hands ran tenderly over her wings in a soothing gesture often denied from them. Mother was comforting her, and that in of itself was worrisome to the young princess. Her mother rarely consoled in an indulgent way unless the towering woman was doing so in an effort to find solace in the gesture herself.   This made the sobs begin anew, and Sola hiccoughed against the velvet and damask coverlets that draped over her mama.   If her heart was breaking this much, Mother was certainly teetering on the precipice of sheer madness.

 

That thought drove a shock of icy fear into her gut. If Mother went mad… If Mama died… How would she restrain Mother? She couldn’t. She wasn’t skilled enough. The thought of Mother howling in a deep dungeon room with iron bars to contain her crazed and furied magick passed through her mind, and she shook her shortly shorn hair at it. Mother’s temper was horrible, she knew. Her sorrow would be hideously evil.

 

She had to do _something._ Her daftie[1] of a twin had abandoned them, Mother pressing Diaval into service once more to find her. Isobel had been gone three days, and Diaval for nearly as long. _Coward_ , she hissed in her mind when Bel’s luminescent face crossed it. Of anyone that could help Mother work spells, Bel was it. And she had flown away, ignoring her screams. Ignoring Mother’s authoritative calls out the window for hours before she had given in and gone to Diaval. _Deserter!_

A growing flame of anger had replaced the chill of fear that had laden her veins. She remembered hearing stories of Mother’s wrath – how she had cursed Mama when she was but a babe in a cradle to take away the thing most precious from Grandfather Stefan. She never understood _why_ Mother had done it, but she was glad to hear the tales of how her True Love’s Kiss had saved Mama from an eternity of dark. Now, Mother was helpless except to watch Mama fall into the same eternal slumber, except no sweet kiss would assist in this matter. A whisper of her old nanny’s bedtime story fluttered across her mind: ‘a _sleep like death.’_

_A sleep like death… A sleep_ like _death… But not death itself._

Her wings tensed as she gasped. Rising to sit ramrod straight, Sola grabbed at her mother’s arms and shook her.

 

Maleficent stared back at her, about to issue an admonition for her child’s violent action, but the words died on her breath. A glower remained in her eye. “Sola Rose, you’d best tell me what is going on in that head.”

 

“Mother, perform the Sleeping Curse again! Mama won’t die, she’ll just _sleep!_ ”

 

A flare of something dark and eerie crossed Mother’s eyes, and Sola ducked slightly, wincing.

 

“Sola Rose, if you paid more attention to my instruction, you would know that one cannot perform the same dark curse on a person twice. It’s double jeopardy.” Maleficent was exasperated, and more than a little irritated that her daughter was so ignorant of her birthright. She never wanted the girls to know the terribly awful thing she’d done to Aurora so long ago, but people talked. She certainly didn’t want to _perform_ it in front of Sola.

 

Sola would not be moved. Gathering as much courage as she could into her voice, she puffed her chest out arrogantly. “If you won’t… I will do it, Mother.”

 

Maleficent struck quick as lightening. Before she knew what had occurred, Sola thudded bum first onto the hard, tiled floor in a heap. She rubbed the cheek bursting with pain, and stars swam in her eyes. As her vision cleared, she saw her mother holding Mama in a clutch so severe, she was afraid she’d break her. Sola held her palms up quickly, and her hands glowed green in defense.   Mother had never struck her before. Threatened, of course. Once Mother had hovered over her, hand raised while Mama begged her not to, when an eight-year-old Sola had turned the baker’s boy into a snake.

 

Sola scowled. Her mother’s eyes glittered darkly, but then turned glassy and soft. “Soso…” Maleficent whispered, reaching down.

 

The princess swatted her mother’s hand away. “You donnae love me, you spiteful thing. You threaten to beat me constantly, and now you’ve gone and done it. Isobel could kill someone, and she would still shite sunshine to you!” Scrambling up and away from the now risen and deeply offended dark faery, she turned and ran out of the chamber.   _Run, you bleedin’ idgit. Figure out a plan._

Maleficent cradled her smarting palm and hissed at the empty doorway. Her thoughts were fractured. _‘Insolent. Stubborn. Mulish. Infuriating.’_ Sitting gently on the bed, she looked down to Aurora, who was muttering softly in her sleep. Lying down, she gathered the chilly body of the Queen close to her once more, straining to listen.

 

“Don’t fight. Maleficent, don’t fight.” Aurora begged.

 

**BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB**

Dawn broke, and the castle’s inhabitants began to wake groggily.   Maleficent’s eyes stayed open, gazing at the rising sun as if in a dare. Rapid footfalls came down the hallway, and she swept up to meet the person outside of the chamber. Nobody must see Aurora in this state.

 

A stable boy skidded around the corner and stopped with a bobbing bow.

 

“Speak.” The faery commanded.

 

“Majesty… The Princess Sola came to the stables and took her mount to the countryside. I asked her where her destination lay, and she kicked me. She did not say,” he bobbed again in fear. “She left before first light. I got up here as fast as the guards would allow, Mistress…”

 

To her credit, Maleficent didn’t harm the boy. Picking him up by the scruff of his shirt, she dragged him back down the hall. “Be gone,” she murmured. She walked out to the War Room’s balcony, and leapt into the chilly morning air, eyes scanning the horizon for her second runaway child.

 

In the shadows of the bedchamber balcony, a shimmer met a figure where darkness met the advancing light. “Críochnaithe.” Still, the figure remained dark as the night. “Cruh-heo-nah-thuh,” the voice repeated, slowly and firmly.   The pronunciation was mildly off, and the furls of magick shimmering were weak. Still, it was beginning to work.

 

Sola’s blazing hair and iridescent forest green eyes slowly met the sunrise, and saw her mother drifting along the thermals towards the Moors. Waiting until she was a goodly distance away, the princess crept into her mothers’ chamber.

 

Her mama was still abed, shivering underneath piles of blankets. She hoped that the peasant girl she’d glamored to look like her would be okay. She’d told her to ride as quickly to town as she could, and to dump the horse at the inn’s stable. The enchantment would have worn off by now, only meant to last until the breakfast hour.

 

Turning her attention back to her mama, the faery princess stroked Aurora’s brow with a gentle hand. “Oh, Mama. I’ll make the hurt go away.”   If there was one thing that Sola was good at magickally, it was glamoring. ‘ _A vain art, Mother called it,’_ she remembered. Vain or not, she could at least make her mother feel a wee bit better and look as beautiful as a newly bloomed rose before cursing her to sleep.

 

Contrary to her mother’s belief, Sola had listened intently to her lessons over the years. She would sneak behind Maleficent and Isobel after playing with friends. People always thought that Bel was the shy princess, but it wasn’t necessarily true. Sola made up for her shyness in brash actions and pranking, but she was a stalwart sneak.   She didn’t believe her magick was as strong as her mother’s, or her sister’s, always having been closer to her mama. Now, she’d have to believe otherwise for her plan to work.

 

Abruptly, Mama’s eyes met hers. Her lips were moving, but Sola couldn’t hear. “Hush, Mama. I’m here now,” she soothed.

 

Mama’s eyes became harder, as if she knew her intentions. Her lips moved faster, and spittle came from her lips as they grimaced. “Maleficent!” she shouted, but barely audible.

 

Sola shook her head, light curls bouncing across her shoulders. “No, Mama. It’s me...It’s me, Sola.” Aurora shook her head right back, looking more frustrated by the moment.

 

“Mama, it’s all right. It’s going to be okay!” the princess demanded Aurora to understand. She’d have to do the spell quickly.

 

Sola remembered from eavesdropping on her sister’s lessons that it wasn’t so much the language you did a curse in, it was the intent behind the words. You had to have great intention... emotion. She had plenty of that, she mused.

 

Green and golden swirls came about the teenaged faery’s hands and she waved them over Aurora. She thought about all the times that she’d been passed over by her mother in favor of Isobel. She reminisced about the cruel children she’d prank – the ones that spoke badly of Mother, Mama, or Bel. She remembered Mother’s furious shouts, and finally the strike she’d endured the evening prior.

 

The wisps grew in power and luminescence over Aurora’s trembling body, and Sola’s heart ached to know her Mama was frightened. There was no going back, now. Summoning her resolve, Sola’s voice spoke loudly and clearly. “Gold of sunshine in her hair, lips that shame the reddest rose. In ageless sleep, she finds repose. The years roll by, but a hundred years to a steadfast heart, are but a day. Off she dreams of her noble love, a valiant figure, straight and tall. Once cured of ills, she’ll awaken with love's purest kiss, and prove that true love conquers all!”

 

Sola looked upon her mama then, as the magick swirled in and out of her body. Aurora’s hair grew and thickened, turning back to the color of burnished gold. Cheeks and lips plumped and darkened with a blush. Her breaths steadied, and cornflower blue eyes now cleared of addling pain slipped closed. As the wisps of magick dissipated, the princess stood and tucked her precious mama under the prettiest furs she could find in haste.

 

She leapt back out the window, and dove for the dungeons below. There, she’d stowed food and clothing for a few weeks. Dragging the luggage into a cell with the best light and view of the outside, she slipped on brass armored gloves to protect her hands. Tugging closed the solid iron door, she locked it from inside and slipped the key into a pouch for safekeeping in the corner, well away from the pile of blankets she’d grabbed for sleeping and spending her time here. The window’s bars weren’t solid iron, but they would do to keep her mother out. If she really wanted to zap the princess into oblivion for her actions, she would. Sola knew that no amount of love the great faery had for her, which she surmised was small at this point, would keep her from tearing her apart. The door and barred window were to slow her mother down, so that soldiers could come to her aid. Maybe. Perhaps it would work, if she survived the itching feeling akin to sunburn crawling the princess’s skin as the poisonous metal surrounded her.

 

Sola sat upon her nest of pillows and blankets, and counted down the minutes to her imminent demise. She’d know when her mother arrived to find the Queen in her current state of restful sleep and…

 

A blood-curdling shriek reverberated the very stones in the wall that met her back. Yes, Mother was home.

 

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Aurora walked her favorite part of the Moors, and smiled gaily. Turning her face towards the warm sunshine, she let out a laugh of happiness and twirled. Today was going to be a wonderful day, she was sure.

 

Maleficent grasped her outstretched hand, and twirled her under a long arm to bump into her chest. Hugging her firmly, the faery bussed her nose and kissed her soundly.

 

Grinning madly, Aurora decided to frolic off towards the field of wildflowers that she liked to dance and sing in. Her love would lay back and watch with amusement and…

 

Without warning, Aurora felt the tall grasses and flowers caressing her calves. She didn’t remember walking all the way here, but there was Maleficent lounging just as she had imagined, a look of pure bliss on the often stern face. “I wonder…” Maleficent spoke to her, head tilted in thought.

 

“You wonder?” Aurora giggled. Dancing slowly and skipping lightly, she started to sing. “I wonder, I wonder…I wonder why each little bird has someone to sing to… sweet things to; a gay little love melody? I wonder, I wonder…If my heart keeps singing, will my song go winging to someone who'll find me, and bring back a love song to me?[2]”

 

Maleficent guffawed, her eyes crinkling at the sight of Aurora prancing about. “But I’m here! I’m right here!” she shouted.

 

Aurora huffed and turned to the snickering faery. Plopping down atop her lap, she leaned in and kissed the crimson lips silent.

 

 

 

 

[1] Daftie – a softheaded person, slow to learn.

[2] Yep, that’s Briar Rose’s “I Wonder” song.


	15. Glacfar Fágtha Taobh (Those Left Behind)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Thanks so much to my readers and reviewers, especially my new faces. Your kind and helpful words keep writing even more enjoyable than it is already.
> 
> Before you go off the deep end and flip tables at me for what’s about to happen in this chapter, remember: There are reasons for everything, and reasons for the reasons that things happen or truths that are twisted in Faery kingdoms. Intrigue is their way of life. 
> 
> Chapter Sountrack:
> 
> Winter Light by Linda Ronstadt

 Leaning against the back of her chair at the head dining table, Isobel stretched her back. It was difficult to trust in the furniture in this land, the Unseelie Court. It appeared to be ice, carved and glamoured into beautiful pieces that seemed to glow from within. Mirrors were everywhere, and she knew that beauty was quite coveted where she had landed.

 

After Queen Mabh had taken her down the tree, she’d commanded the princess to close her eyes. Once allowed to open them, she found herself within a castle so vast, she’d never be able to walk the distance. Her heart had sunk tremendously at that. There would be no sneaking out in the middle of the night to fly home. Here resided fae of all shapes and sizes, and if it weren’t for the constant underlying current of _coldness_ and intrigue, she might have felt calm at her predicament. As it was, she was resigned to it. She’d been here for nearly a week, or so she thought. Time moved so differently here. Each evening, she asked to fly home to assist her Mother with Mama’s care. She’d been rebuffed every time, coddled into staying with talk of the honor she brought by simply being here, or that she needed to rest her wings just _one more night._

 

Isobel breathed deeply, stamping down her melancholy and homesickness. She had told the Queen of the Unseelie that she’d come searching for help for Mama, but Mabh had sympathetically held her shoulder and said that it wasn’t that she wouldn’t give permission for the transformation, but that the Queen of the Humans wouldn’t accept herself afterwards. No, it had to be the “Springtime Court” of the Seelie to give the incantation to Mother so that Mama would be a light faery.  

 

A chilly grip met her shoulder once more, and she realized that the Queen had been attempting to get her attention. Normally, she would have said she was sorry, but she had been taught quickly by Mabh that speaking the words “I’m sorry” was an unforgivable statement here. She felt often confused at the way the faeries in this court interacted. They were so very superstitious.

 

“I beg your pardon, your Majesty. My mind seems to have run away without me tonight,” she said instead.

 

“You are missing your family, my dearest one; ‘tis nothing to be apologetic for. You’ve been domesticated, just like your mother and sisters. Its no wonder emotions addle your beautiful mind.”

 

“My sister, yes. I do miss Sola, and Mother… and Mama.” Isobel responded respectfully, her chin dipping slightly at the dig of being called domesticated, as if Mother was some sort of housecat Mama had attracted with a bowl of milk.

 

“You only have the one sister now? How very… interesting.” Mabh commented off handedly, as if the matter were a small one.

 

“Majesty, I’ve only ever had the one sister.” Now Isobel’s eyes rose to meet Mabh’s own.   Was the Queen forgetful?

 

“Pish-posh, dearie. There were three of ye.’ Our scribes record every faery born, as do the scribes of my sister’s court. The quills wrote three names; Luna Aibhlinn was born in the month of Bealtaine[1] to Maleficent, Mistress of the Highland Moor. Sola Rose and Isobel Yvaine were born to the Human Queen Aurora of Dál Riata[2] on the wee hours of Samhain, the 1st of mí na Samhna[3] twelve years ago. It was a most prodigious omen for your birth date, if I may say so. At any rate, the quills don’t make mistakes. It’s impossible to break their truth enchantment, though many have tried.”

 

Isobel sat unblinkingly, frozen to her core. Mother had never told her about another sister, and neither had Mama. Her name was the opposite of Sola’s. Whatever did that mean? Her bookish mind flipped through it’s many memories for the source of the names, their meanings in the Tuatha language. Sola meant the Sun and Luna, the Moon. Isobel meant ‘blessed by the Gods.’ Shaking her head, she didn’t think it fit the pattern. Her middle name did, though – Yvaine, the evening star. Together, their names made the trinity of the sun, the moon, and the stars.

 

Queen Mabh cleared her throat loudly. “Perhaps ye’ should be off to bed, young one. Your mind’s afloat again.”

 

“Yes, your Majesty. I think… I think I shall.” Isobel responded numbly, her feet carrying her swiftly down the hall to the chamber she’d been assigned. Opening the door, she spied the bed with its soft furs and fell into them, weeping. Where was her older sister? Why did she not live with her and Sola? What did she look like? There was one source she knew that might be able to tell her: the scribes that the Queen had mentioned. Firming her resolve, she wiped her bleary eyes and snuck back out of her door.

 

Spying a gentleman faery a ways down the corridor, she fluttered to him quickly. “Pardon me, sir… Do you know where the scribes work?”

 

The man regarded her strangely, and then his eyes lit in recognition. “You are Princess Isobel of the Highland Moors, aren’t you?”

 

Perturbed at being delayed, she answered shortly. “I suppose. Who is asking?”

 

Instead of being offended, the brown haired man chuckled softly at her knowingly. “Ah, yes. My manners. I am called Tinneas[4].”

 

Isobel’s eyes grew wide. “You are a Prince of this court, sir. I apologize, with due respect.” She curtsied to show her deference to the Ancient before her.

 

“Oh, bah.” Tinneas waved his hand at her. “No offense was taken, young Princess. I hate to reveal my age, but my name does it for me. I truly am young at heart, so I understand your discourteousness. Just don’t allow it to happen again,” he jested lightly while wagging a finger at her. “Especially in front of Mother.”

 

Giggles bubbled out of Isobel’s mouth before she could stop them, and she felt warmth fill her heart that she had been missing. “So, your Majesty – the scribes?”

 

“Of course, you little bookworm. I’ve heard tell of your intelligence and cleverness. Come, then.” Tinneas held out his arm for her to take in invitation.

 

As Isobel accepted his arm and they began to walk, the Prince began to make small talk. “So, Princess Isobel. Why is it that you want to venture all the way to the Hall of Knowledge?”

 

“I seek the book where my sister’s name is written. She was born twelve years ago in Bealtaine, but I’ve never met her! I don’t even know why. Mother… Queen Maleficent and Queen Aurora have never told me of her,” she said, sadness lacing her words. “Why would they lie to me?”

 

A whoosh of air left the Prince’s lips as he responded. “Faeries cannot tell untruths, Princess Isobel. You know better than that. What is your sister’s name? The sister you’re searching for, I mean.”

 

“Luna Aibhlinn. I don’t mean that they lied so much as omitted the information. Is that not considered an untruth?” Isobel wondered aloud.

 

Tinneas chuckled loudly. “No, dear Princess. That is twisting the truth, and far different. But, I am very glad you told me her name. You don’t need to walk all the way to the scribes and look upon a book to find your sister. She resides here.”

 

Shocked at his statement, Isobel halted. A chill crept up her spine as she turned to face Tinneas. “What do you mean, she resides here?”

Tinneas ran a hand through his long hair that was beginning to escape its tieback. “Well, I mean she lives here. She is a ward of Her Majesty, my mother Queen Mabh. She has been ever since her birth.”

 

“ _What_?” Isobel asked curtly. “Did my mothers give her to the Queen to ward?”

 

Tinneas looked nervous, and she could smell it coming off him in waves. “Y-yes, of a sort. Your mother, Queen Maleficent did not want to carry her. So, Luna was bound to a rosebud. My mother found her, abandoned in the Highland Moors close to when you were born, lonely and afraid. She unbound her and brought her here to live. She’s… she’s to be my bride when she comes of age.”

 

“So you mean to tell me, her Majesty knew this when I was confused about having another sister at supper?” Isobel asked angrily.

 

“I don’t know the conversation you had with my mother the Queen, but I am sure she wanted you to come to knowledge gently, Isobel. She adores you.” Tinneas patted her shaking shoulders gently. “She is older, and does not reveal too much at once, lest her words be used against her. She probably thought you would be angry with her, at the least.”

 

“Why would I be angry at _her_ when it was my own mother who abandoned her?” Isobel shook with ire. Her wings twitched rapidly with the emotion, and her heart beat rapidly. Mother had deserted her sister. Mother did not _want_ her. Mother, _how could you?_

 

“Easy now, young one. Control those feelings, for they are powerful. You may need them later. Store them up.” Tinneas gently tapped his finger to her forehead as he looked at her wings that gave away her state of mind. “I know what would make you feel better, hmm? Would you like to meet her? She may still be awake.”

 

“Oh, yes! But… why wasn’t she at dinner?” Isobel asked.

 

Tinneas took her arm again, and lead her to the left, down a shorter hall. “She was dining with me, of course.” He grinned unabashedly. “She is shy, and prone to fits of melancholy. As such, she doesn’t like to eat with many others.”

 

The pair stopped at a vaulted door with a heavy lock. “For her protection,” Tinneas explained. Stepping inside, Isobel saw a lithe faery maiden seated at the window, looking towards the skies. The girl’s hair was just as long as her own, Isobel noticed, but it was a deep burnished mahogany: Mother’s hair.

 

Tinneas coughed to announce their presence, and the maiden turned her head. If Tinneas’ arm hadn’t been holding her own, she was sure she would have fallen over. Luna’s eyes were the perfect match to Isobel’s own: Mother’s eyes. Searching Luna’s face hungrily, Isobel filed this and other information away. She’d always been Mother’s favorite, but if Mother hadn’t left Luna in the Moors all alone, she was sure she would have been supplanted. Her sister looked _precisely_ like their mother. “H-Hello. I am Isobel. Are you Luna?”

 

A smile as bright as Mama’s graced Luna’s face then, and the biological connection was cemented in Isobel’s mind. “Good evening, Isobel. Is it all right if I embrace you? I want to, very much.”

 

“Of course!” Isobel exclaimed, her excitement overwhelming her manners. She ran to Luna, and hugged her with heart bursting.

 

Luna hugged just as tightly back and whispered, “Sister.”

 

**BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB**

At the castle, it had been revealed to the court that Queen Aurora had been placed under a deep sleeping enchantment so that Aurora’s body could heal. As they’d become accustomed to her, the councilors had trusted Maleficent implicitly that the Princess Sola had been upset with her over Aurora’s illness, and the guards did not question when she had them take the door off to the dungeon by it’s very hinges. They turned away in respect when the mother plucked her wayward, oath-swearing and shrieking child off the floor and dragged her kicking and scratching to her bedchamber, locking her firmly inside and posting guards at window and door. After all, children craved discipline when they were misbehaving. They _were_ surprised that Maleficent did not thrash the child for her disobedience. The Faery Queen still bore a slight discoloration on her face from a particularly nasty rake of the Princess’s taloned nails two weeks later.

 

Sola lay in her bed, refusing to dress for the day. It was her latest tactic of many, but Mother wasn’t budging. In fact, Mother hadn’t said anything to her in weeks. She hadn’t spoken when Sola swore the seven Hells upon her head, nor when she grasped at Mother’s face to injure her. Her heart felt empty, and she missed Isobel terribly. No word had come from the guards as to her sister’s whereabouts, and judging from the desperation that she could sometimes see in Mother’s nearly vacant eyes, she doubted that Bel had returned.  

 

Keys jangled, and her door creaked open. Soft, bare footfalls met Sola’s ears, and she sat up to stare at Maleficent replacing the untouched dinner tray with a steaming one full of sweet breakfast foods. Was this Mother’s way of tricking her into eating? The sweets were precariously piled upon each other: pancakes drowned in syrup, which were covered in cranberry scones. To the side, Sola saw oatmeal laden with molasses sugar, and chocolate pastries. Her stomach growled and protested loudly. She’d been sneaking bites of her larger meals here and there, rearranging the entrees to appear she hadn’t eaten in order to hurt the woman who still insisted on collecting the plates herself.

 

Mother still did not acknowledge her, but instead of leaving the bedchamber immediately as she had done for so many days, she walked towards the window and gazed out. Standing for a few minutes, the tall and proud faery’s shoulders began to slump, and her head started to dip. Her wings began to shake.

 

Was Mother weeping?

 

Before she could help it, Sola mumbled, “Mother?”

 

“She will not wake.” A response so quiet, Sola strained to hear it. “She will not wake, Sola. You do not know what you have done. You have blackened your soul in a way that you can never take back, and I cannot save you from it.”

 

Dread gripped Sola’s heart, and she feared her mother had come undone. “Mother, she’s not meant to wake until she’s better.”

 

A gripping sound met the princess’s ears then. Her mother was shifting, foot to foot, emitting keening moans and clawing at her hair.

 

So heartbreaking was the sight of her mother in such a state, Sola flew out of bed and grasped Maleficent’s hands in her own. Tugging them down, she tucked herself forcibly under a wing and hugged her mother for dear life. “Mother, Mother… please. I am sorry, more sorry than you know. I couldn’t just sit there and watch Mama die. Please, Mother. I’ll be good! I’ll eat, and get dressed!”

 

The horrible noise had stopped from her Mother’s lips, but the swaying continued. Sola felt ribs poking at her fingers from underneath Maleficent’s billowy silks. “Mother, please come and eat with me? I…I want you to eat with me.”

 

Blank eyes looked down at Sola, finally. The princess reached up and cupped her mother’s sharp cheekbones. “Mother, come back. We’ll eat.”

 

Recognition slowly returned to the frosty teal and golden eyes. “You’ll eat for me?”

 

“How could I resist, when you bring me so many sweets?” Sola beamed.

 

Mother hugged her close, wings wrapped so tightly around them that it was hard to breathe. “Sola, my Sola,” she chanted. Just then, the princess’s stomach grouchily made itself known again.

 

They walked back towards the breakfast table, wings curled around each other. Separating only to sit down, they both stared hungrily at the tray. “What should we eat first, Mother?” Sola deliberated aloud.

 

“Everything.” Maleficent nodded firmly, grabbing the first thing her hand curled around and shoving it whole into her mouth.

“Eww, Mother.” Sola winced daintily, handing Maleficent a fork.

 

They hadn’t entirely forgiven each other, but Maleficent and Sola met each other halfway. As such, Maleficent glared at the fork and proceeded to chew brazenly to the consternation of her daughter.

 

[1] Bealtaine – Month of May

[2] Dál Riata (Alba in Pictish) **–** In both Sleeping Beauty and Maleficent, Aurora’s kingdom is un-named. Little is known about the structure of the Scottish royal court prior to unifying with the Picts in the period before the coming of the Normans to Scotland. A little more is known about the court of the later 12th and 13th centuries. In the words of Geoffrey Barrow, the later court "was emphatically feudal, Frankish, non-Celtic in character." In Maleficent, Prince Phillip is son to King John of Ulstead (Ulster/ _Ulaidh._ ) The kingdoms neighbored each other, Alba to the North in Scotland and Ulster to the south in Northern Ireland.

[3] mí na Samhna – Month of November.

[4] Tinneas – The Unseelie Prince of Pestilence and Disease


	16. Taibhreamh (Dreamscapes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: So, are you really for a little breather from all the angst; a respite of some sort? So am I, dear readers. Welllllll, a little break. How about a lemon? 
> 
> For those left semi-confused that did not request direct clarification as to how Luna is alive, I’ll redirect you to the very last lines of Chapter 5. To the questions of why Maleficent thought that she had lost her completely? Well, that’s a deeper character issue we’ll be exploring in the coming chapters. If I gave it all away now, there’d be nothing left to write. ;D
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> So Far Away and So Near, by Erutan  
> Wild Child, by Enya

Aurora lay draped in the heavy and secure wings of her one true love. Running light touches over the flight quills and interspersed undercoat of down that poked through here and there, her eyes grew heavy. Peering out at the endless skies of the Moors, she began to name the constellations she found in a quiet murmur. She didn’t want to wake the slumbering woman next to her, the softly falling breaths and snores of whom met the side of her neck. Sometimes, they would cuddle so close these past evenings that Aurora began to wonder where she ended and Maleficent began. Their tree hammock wasn’t much bigger than this kind of embrace allowed, but she didn’t mind.

 

Aurora looked then, around Maleficent’s home tree. She had a vague niggling at the back of her mind that the tree should have a makeshift bed over in _that_ corner, and walls of twisting new growth branches, but it didn’t. It struck her that it would be easier to sleep together in a comfortable nest full of blankets.   Eyes sliding closed into rest once more, she reminded herself to ask Maleficent the next morning about this strange memory.

 

Warmth immediately hit her face, as the sun began to rise in earnest. Still within the protective embrace of her faery, Aurora resisted the urge to bolt upwards in surprise. A long white finger was brushing along her face from forehead to cheek, cheek to chin, and then down the bridge of her nose. Opening her eyes, the only sight before her became Maleficent’s gloriously smiling face. “Good morning, sleepy head. I thought I’d have to wait forever for you to wake,” the crimson lips spoke.

 

“But, I’ve only just fallen asleep…” Aurora responded, her voice gravelly from dis-use. A tremor passed through her – her voice only ever sounded like that after a long night’s rest. Hadn’t she just been looking at the stars?

 

“Mmmmm, perhaps it feels that way. I assure you, your Majesty has been snoring in my face quite soundly for the better part of the evening and early day. “ Maleficent quipped, her lips crooked in their attempt to withhold a laugh.

 

“No…” Aurora stated firmly, sitting up and pushing the wing that held her down away. “No. You were the one snoring.” Her hands grasped at soft silks and cushy velvets underneath her in her frustration. Startled, she saw that they were lounging in their bed in the great Rowan tree.

 

“Well, I suppose I snore like most living creatures do when they sleep, but there’s no need to be so offended about it. Besides, you wore me out yesterday evening.” Maleficent’s eyebrow rose in reminder, her gentle hands encasing Aurora’s and tugging them from damaging their nest. “I’ve never seen you be cross that I snore.”

 

“I’m not upset about that!” Aurora spat, her eyes welling with tears. She was just so _confused._

 

Maleficent sat up then, her palms out in surrender. “To what do I owe your indignation then, my sweet rose?”

 

Aurora’s pants of fear exited her lips in rapid puffs. But then, looking upon her love so beautiful and bare in their bed sent a curl of warmth into the pit of her belly. A breeze blew lightly through the leaves, buffeting the glorious wings that framed Maleficent’s sharp shoulders and collarbone. Hair that had been draped over the softness of the faery’s breasts blew to the side, revealing them. A blush rose to the Queen’s cheeks as she stared at the wonder that was her mate. “The bed…” she tried to explain, but what was it that bothered her about the bed?

 

Pale arms reached for her, and tugged her into an embrace. Their chests touched, and Aurora felt as if she was on fire as pebbly nipples met her own, rubbing deliciously. “The bed? The bed is a fine place. So are the field, and the bathing pool. But, if you prefer the bed…” Maleficent stated coyly before capturing Aurora’s dewy pink lips in her own. At sensing Aurora’s minor resistance, she nibbled them between her teeth in a request for acquiescence. A deep sigh of pleasure came forth, and she took it as permission. Deepening her kiss, Maleficent slid her tongue across the delectable rosy flesh that seemed molded by the heavens for her only.

 

Aurora ran her hands up and down Maleficent’s arms to bring forth a shiver. She loved to feel the too-serious faery tremble and quiver at her touch. A wave of power and arousal rushed through her, and she grasped at the breasts that ached to be touched, running her thumb firmly over the peaks while kneading.

 

A gasp, and then the exploration of her mouth abruptly ended. “No, Aurora. Today is about you. Yesterday was enough for me.”

 

“Yesterday?” Aurora doubted aloud. She didn’t remember a yesterday. All that she recalled was now, and now she felt herself being turned around at the hips to sit nestled backwards against her lover’s spread legs. Her bum met dripping wetness, and she felt kisses and the scrape of teeth against her shoulders. A shiver went through her and she felt sharp ribs chuckle silently against her spine. Maleficent draped her hair to one side and continued her suckling and kissing along the cleft where her neck met shoulder. The feeling of complete adoration and security blanketed Aurora.

 

Maleficent’s hands reached around to caress her breasts, massaging them roughly to elicit the strange sensation between pain and pleasure. Lifting her arms up, Aurora grasped hair and horn between her hands, and arched her chest into the ministrations. Brisk breaths and groaning seemed to be the only language she was capable of at the moment, but her mind raced. Her faery often treated her like the most delicate flower during their lovemaking, but this was something altogether different. She felt the possessiveness roiling beneath the surface of her touch, now. It ought to have frightened Aurora, but it only made her moans come more loudly.

 

One of those domineering hands snaked its way down to her womanhood, teasing and rubbing the nub hidden beneath now-sopping wet curls.   “Oh! Maleficent,” she chanted, a crazed fervor bursting from her heart.

 

“Down, sweetling,” came an order from the lips at her ear as she suddenly felt herself being pushed onto her belly. Heaviness overcame her as she realized that Maleficent was leaning over her back assertively. One hand found it’s way into Aurora’s hair to tug at every squirm, and the other entered her from behind. Rapidly coming up to speed, Aurora spread herself further and welcomed the onslaught of pleasure. She met the thrusts of her paramour's hand, quickly losing pace in her quest to reach completion. At long last, the deep ache released inside of her, and she threw her head back. Shouting her climax, Aurora was barely cognizant of Maleficent biting at her neck hard enough to draw blood and grunting herself.

 

Twisting around, Aurora kissed the faery with a passion she’d long forgotten. How long had it been since they had a go around this good? It had to have been the summer before the girls were born… The girls?

 

“THE GIRLS!” Aurora yelled, scrambling out of the bed in a flash. _“Where are the children?”_

 

The bed was empty in silent response. Maleficent was nowhere to be seen. A whimper of fear escaped her lips, and she quickly dressed in a light summer gown. Was she going mad? She had to be. She was just… in that bed! And they… were just together!

Grabbing at her neck where a bruise from her lover’s suckling should have been, she found no discomfort. Aurora ran to the mirror that hung from a branch to the left, gaping at her peaches and cream skin unadorned by any evidence of Maleficent’s bites.

Shrieking, she slid down the tree ladder in haste. Spinning around in agitation, tears coursed their way down her cheeks. _“Maleficent! Maleficent, where are you?”_

Stopping to quell a rising sob, Aurora’s hair stood on end as she felt the sensation of being watched. Turning slowly towards the log that had always lain next to the base of the great Rowan, she instantly saw why.

A brilliantly glowing faery woman smiling with grace and a kind of motherly indulgence stared back at her. Her robes were as green as the plant life that surrounded her, but her hair was the color of copper pence and goldenrod. Amusement lit her moss and emerald swirled eyes. “Aurora my girl, there’s no need to be frightened. I’ve only sent your figment on an errand. I needed to speak with you.”

 

The human Queen was suspicious, never having seen this particular faery in the Moors before. Familiarity coated the woman’s tongue as if she knew Aurora well, and that set her off edge. Drawing herself up in a stance of royalty and courage, she asked coolly “Who are you, and why are you in the Moors?”

 

Laughter as light as the tinkling bells that farmers set on their boundaries to warn them of Fair Folk crossing. “Oh, _my dear_ , but she has taught you well. I lived in these Moors, once upon a dream. I’m brought back now and again, when I am needed. Of course, brought back from _here_ …which in _your_ mind is the Moors. How charming.”

 

The woman spoke like Maleficent, and had many of the same mannerisms. Aurora was beginning to get frustrated. “What have you done with Maleficent? What do you mean, you reside here, but that in my own mind it’s the Moors? You speak in riddles.”

 

“I’m always here, Aurora. I help when I am needed, and Danu[[1]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftn1) knows that you need it. As for Maleficent? She’s right where you left her. My name is Hermia, and your true love was my daughter, a lifetime ago,” the faery bit her cheek in feigned bashfulness. “I consider you my daughter, too. You’ve brought Maleficent such happiness and peace. That’s why I was sent to give you wings. I don’t need them anymore. I can go where I please.”

 

“Y-you’re _always_ here?” Aurora had the good sense to look embarrassed, glancing back at the Rowan tree.

 

Hermia threw back her head in a chortle so loud, the birds launched from a nearby bush. Of all the things she just said, her human daughter focused on that.

 

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Maleficent reclined on the bed, next to Aurora’s still form. Every day for the past month, she’d wash and dress her as best she could, draping her with a newly laundered bedspread covered with sprigs of dried lavender. She would run her slender fingers through the Queen’s golden tresses, curling the hair around them. Once finished, she would place Aurora’s crown back atop her head lightly, kiss her forehead and then her lips.

 

Every day, nothing would happen…

 

…Except today. As Maleficent’s ruby lips left Aurora’s, golden wisps exited the human Queen’s mouth.   The faery hadn’t noticed yet, her eyes still closed as her lips worked silent prayers for the curse to break.

 

But Princess Sola, who had watched the daily routine with fascination and utter surprise at her mother’s tenderness, noticed right away. “Mother! _Mother!_ It’s _working! Your kiss is working!_ ” she shouted, hopping off of the chaise lounge and skipping to the edge of the bed’s raised dais. She wouldn’t risk coming closer, but her nervous feet clacked the floor as she bounced in excitement.

 

“But how?” Maleficent knelt by the bed, hands clasping Aurora’s. Her eyes roamed the woman’s body where the magick swirled. Aurora seemed to float a bit over the bed, but kneeling lower, she could spy wings unfurling from shoulders that were tightening and becoming more defined before her very eyes. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she turned back to Sola, a picture of distrust.

 

“I dinnae do it, Mother!” Sola raised her palms in deference. “I’ve been wit’ you the whole time since you let me out ‘ma room.”

Turning her gaze back to her love, Maleficent noticed the minute changes occurring: skin paled a shade, and cheeks became rosier and more defined. Aurora’s hair became thicker and curlier yet, and the tiny imperfections that had once graced her face and made her _human_ faded away. Around her shoulders, the growing bronze-brown wings curled. Maleficent barely remembered those wings, and she gasped at the fuzzy memory running through her mind. Could it be?

 

Could her Mother have performed the incantation on Aurora while she was asleep in Tír na nÓg? Aurora had never described where she went when she had been cursed the first time; but had only stated feeling comforted like a babe in someone’s arms. Had she journeyed the whole way and back again?

 

So many questions lay on Maleficent’s lips as Aurora opened her exquisitely blue eyes, but the words that came out were perfect. “Hello, my Beastie,” she chokingly cried.

 

Aurora didn’t say anything, but sat up into Maleficent’s arms, catching her into a kiss so deep and loving that the Princess observing turned away and giggled, “Ick, Mama!”

 

Opening her arms, Aurora reached for her daughter. “Sola! Oh, my Sola! How very glad I am to see your beautiful face.” As Sola hopped onto the bed, the Queen ran her hands over the Princess’s face, as her eyes remembered once more. Hugging both her daughter and love close, she became aware of a weight on her back. Letting go, she craned her neck behind her and was startled. “She wasn’t joking,” she whispered in awe.

 

“Who, Mama?” Sola yelped in delight.

 

Instead of answering Sola directly, Aurora gazed deeply into Maleficent’s eyes once more. “Your grandmother. These are her wings.” As if they were acknowledging their new owner, the wings fluffed up proudly.

 

“How do you feel, darling?” Maleficent’s hand cupped her belly, no doubt to see if she would wince or cry out.

 

“Never better,” Aurora beamed. Her smile fell quickly as she looked around the bedchamber for her fair-haired child. “Where is Isobel?”

 

 

 

[[1]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftnref1) Danu – (pronounciation Dah-new) the mother goddess of the Tuatha Dé Danann (pronunciation Too-ah day dah-nahn) (Old Gaelic: "The peoples of the goddess Danu")


	17. Rós Bealtaine (Rose of May)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Aaaaaaugh, this chapter was so hard to write. There were so many different ways I could have approached this, but I hope I did the story arc justice, dear ones.
> 
> Bonus points to those who head over to the Changeling Photobucket to see the new photo manips done for Faery Aurora and a chapter insight photo manip of 13 year old Luna and Isobel. Reads and reviews are treated to a big hug.
> 
> XOXO, Readers!
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> I’ll Tell Me Ma (Traditional Jig) by Gaelic Storm or Sinead O’Connor (your choice!)  
> Rose of May, by Erutan

Princess Isobel led Luna by the hand through the countryside, towards the city center.   They were disguised with large hooded cloaks over their heads and wings; not too sumptuous as to draw attention, they kept the girls warm from the chilly breezes that blew across the highlands. They’d flown from the edge of the Unseelie Moor to the borders of Dál Riata before landing and taking their trek further on foot. It had been a request of Isobel that Luna learn more about the place of her birth and the good folk that resided within.

 

Luna’s nose scrunched up as they walked past a farm edging the Highland Moors. It stunk of laborer’s sweat, baking breads, hearty autumn stew, animals, and dried wheat and hay. She knew this was the rushing end to the humans’ time of harvest, but she hadn’t expected it to “mingin so nasty.” Smiling whilst shaking her head, she thought of how Bel’s unusual speech and Highland slang had slowly crept into her vernacular over the past year. She adored her younger sister more than anyone she’d ever known, arguing fiercely with her protector, Queen Mabh to allow Isobel to go home after staying with them for the better part of a year.   Surprisingly, Mabh’s only request was that Luna accompanied her sister home, and had said no more on the matter. That didn’t mean she wasn’t thinking on the many outcomes of her permissions, Luna thought determinedly. The old Queen’s mind was as sharp as the steel traps that farmers liked to place around their Moors. Humans were vicious creatures, cursed to short lives for their disobedience to the Goddess.

 

After all, a girl’s 13th name day was one of the most important, Mabh had said.

Luna had her own fete thrown in the spring, and she’d played her harp and sang her heart out. Faeries of all sorts showed their fealty to the Queen and entertained Luna with feats of skills. She’d enjoyed the acrobatics of the smaller fae folk, but the battle fighting displays and tournaments had pleased her most. Isobel had been most upset when bone and ivory hilted swords with cold iron blades had been awarded to the winners. “That’s deadly!” she had hissed. How naïve was her little sister? Did she think that the sun rose and set with diplomacy and books? Did she honestly think the peace with the humans would last forever, or even the temporary peace between the Seelie and Unseelie courts?

“Would ye’ stop bein’ so high handed and actually _look_ ‘round you, Luna? These are your people.” Isobel interrupted her deep reverie.

 

“They may be yours, sweet sister, but they certainly are not _mine_. They are mortal.” Luna remarked drily.

 

Spotting the bristling of wings in irritation beneath Isobel’s cloak, Luna smiled in silent apology. Her sister just glared. “Ya’ know, Luna… Mother was half human. Her pa was a human babe before Kinloch’s pa stole him. I know the books in the Hall of Knowledge paint her as some sort of vengeful aingeal[1] with a heart full of blackened coal so hard it’s impossible to bear her presence, but she’s just a woman. I swear it!”

 

“A woman who curses babies, falls in love with them, proceeds to kiss them awake with true love, and then hates her own child so very much the dark magick that resides in that black diamond of a heart binds the babe to a rosebud. Yes, just a woman,” Luna retorted smartly. Her eyes narrowed and glittered, just like Maleficent’s. Isobel tried to stifle a giggle at the thought of Mother and Luna staring each other down. You’d only know the difference from the height and lack of horns of the latter.

 

“Whit’re you laughing at, you silly thing,” Luna admonished, pushing her sister playfully in half-hurt.

 

“You! You’re so stubborn!” Isobel danced away from her and out front into the pathway they’d been walking. “I’m _telling you_ , Lu! Mother will have an explanation for what happened.” Isobel desperately hoped what she had been asserting for the past eight or so months was indeed true.

 

Luna bristled, then. She speed-walked a good five minutes ahead of a chuckling Isobel, and paused to wait when she reached a hamlet about an hour’s distance from the capitol. Boys and girls were dancing in the square, around the well that stood in the middle. Hopping and skipping, they were quite light on their human feet. A startlingly fast jig and reel was being played on the fiddle and hand-bellows. Unable to contain her curiosity, the Unseelie faery poked a human’s shoulder.

 

The boy turned and looked at her, ready to issue a rude statement, but stopped at the sight of her uncanny beauty and resemblance to their monarch. But, this girl was too young… it couldn’t be his Queen. He shook his head. No horns, he reminded himself. “Err, can I help you, lass?”

 

“What are you all so joyful for?” Luna asked, a bit put off at the boy’s fear at her face.

 

“Why, it was the Princesses Sola and Isobel’s 13th name day two days ago! They’re having quite the to-do at the castle this weekend. They would have done it on the day itself, but it’s holy, the priests say. Some new holiday about ‘all the saints.’ Crazy priests!” The girl merely stared at him with an icy look of detachment, so he continued in a stammer. “We we’re just dancing to a song that’s been goin’ round the kingdom ‘bout Princess Isobel coming home finally. We heard she’s been courtin’ faery princes. Three of ‘em!”

Instead of responding, Luna began to listen to the words between the reels of music. Another lad sitting on a bale of hay tapped his foot as he sang, “I'll tell me ma when I gone home! The boys won't leave the girls alone. They pull my hair, they stole me comb, but that's alright till I go home. She is handsome, she is pretty; she's the belle of the whole city. She is a courting one, two, three! Please won't you tell me who is she?”

“You’re making fun of her,” Luna was disgusted.

The boy choked out, “N-no! She’s just so pretty and aloof; we like to play at it. Princess Sola is so much more… people-like.”

The jig continued further. The girls joined in the singing now. “Now Albert Mooney says he loves her, and all the boys are fighting for her. Knocking on the door and they're ringing on the bell saying, "Oh my true love, are you well?" They fell into fits of cackling, their peasant shoes stomping along with the song.

The boys took over, then. “Oh she comes as white as snow with rings on her fingers and bells on her toes. Old Johnny Murphy says she's cursed to die if she doesn't get the fellow with the roving eye. Let the wind and the rain and the hail come high, and the snow come shoveling from the sky. She's as sweet as apple pie, and she'll get her own lad by and by. When she gets a lad of her own, she won't tell her ma when she comes home!”

As a late-arriving Isobel stood heaving angry breaths next to her, Luna raised an eyebrow. “Who is Albert Mooney?” she teased.

“Augh!” Isobel threw her hands in the air and stalked back along the path, away from the music that tormented her. How she wished they could reveal themselves and fly hone… but that would reveal Luna’s secret too soon.

“Bel! Bel, I apologize; it’s just so adorable that _your people_ write songs about your being a pretty tattletale,” Luna baited her.

Isobel bit her cheek and looked sideways at Luna. The girl could be cruel in her jesting at times, but Isobel tried to let it slide – she’d had a much harder life, growing up without the touch of a mother’s love, expected to be a broodmare once she came of age. It was no wonder that she took enjoyment out of other’s suffering. It gave her a glimpse into what Mother must have been like as a younger woman.

“Why do you look at me as if I want your pitying?” Luna saw right through her, always.

“I apologize, Lu… I was just thinking about how hard it was for Mother when she was our age, too. She learned to love again, even after she’d been betrayed. She’s not violent or mean anymore.” Isobel described.

“She should have just offed the sod who took her wings. I would have, just like when I assist in the execution of humans come through our borders uninvited,” the Unseelie princess muttered.

“But, he didn’t kill her. It would have been uneven justice,” Isobel protested. “H-how many humans have you killed?”

“Oh, and I suppose cursing an innocent baby was even justice? Not stopping there, but then stealing that babe when she’d become a maiden to be her mate, and _then_ offing the king? Sounds perfectly balanced to me, Bel. As for the humans I’ve mercifully executed instead of allowing the other courtiers play with them? Never you mind.”

Isobel’s hackles raised. “That’s not how it happened, and you know it! Whit’re you doin’, killin’ humans?! You’re half-human!”

“I know, I know. _So you tell me._ ” Luna retorted. “ _True love_ and all that. _It doesn’t exist_. And I am _not_ half-human; I am an evening primrose.” she stuck her tongue out and paused, looking around for any people on the path. Seeing none, she sighed and turned towards Isobel. “The boy back at the village recognized me. I think he thought I was M… Maleficent. I need to glamour myself now, before we head in.”

“I don’t know why you need to do it at all.” Isobel protested, crossing her arms.

“Because, I don’t trust these people. I don’t trust Maleficent and her newly-winged Queen.” Her voice was hard, and Isobel decided not to say anything smart back to her. Centering herself, she imagined light blonde hair the shade of Isobel’s and violet eyes.   Opening her eyes, she peered at Bel and waved her glowing hands around her head. “Well?”

“Enh, you look strange. It’s like looking at Mother and Mama put together. A wee bit obvious, if you ask me.” Reaching forward with magick illuminated palms, she pulled at Luna’s nose to make it thinner and less aquiline, then pushed her chin up to make the face less elongated. “Better, I think.”

The girls walked another five or so miles when they reached the outer city buildings. After ducking into an inn to change into their formal court dresses, they popped back outside and stretched their wings from being unused for the better part of a day. Gentry and peasant alike gawped at them, and shouts sent ahead quickly that the Princess and her “friend” had arrived within the city limits.

They both shrugged at each other before hopping lithely into the first burst of whooshing power behind their wings, creating buffets of air for each other. They might as well fly from here on in.   Hand in hand, they flew over the battlements into the inner bailey, and dropped down. While fixing their skirts and windblown hair into a semblance of order, their eyes spoke silently to each other. “Don’t worry,” one pair of ice teal and golden said to the other pair hidden beneath violet glamour. “Easy for you to say,” was the droll response.

Trumpets blared, and together they walked into the main door to the great hall. At the front of the room sat Maleficent and Aurora, side-by-side in a newer throne that seated both at once. Sola sat in a smaller U-shaped chair to the side of Mother, and an empty one rested to Mama’s side. That was new, Isobel remarked to herself. Her mother was gowned in darkest greens and black, with her russet waves thrown casually over one shoulder underneath her elegant coronet. It had grown near to her knees while she’d been gone, and gave an air of agelessness. Her horns were capped in gold, and wrapped with bronze circlets. She’d dressed to impress severity and control, and her face belied nothing. Mama was in stark contrast –billowy pale blue lace framed the delicate woman’s body that set off her glorious bronze and copper pence wings, and a veil of sheerest gauze capped her long blonde ringlets beneath her golden floral tiara. She kept smiling and attempting to rest her lips into a regal pose only to smile again, in that special way only Mama did when she was excited.

Sola looked bored and angry all at once, stuffy in a taffeta confection of a dress, tapping her fingers silently against the arm of her chair. Her mauve, violet, and rose gold tiara shined from far away, and Isobel had to control her hand from raising to the empty space on her own head where her matching crown ought to have rested.

As they drew closer, Isobel was aware of Luna trembling slightly next to her. Glancing towards the girl glamoured to look quite different, it was hard to tell what emotion she was feeling, but the trajectory of her eyes was matched with Mother’s. “You can do it,” she whispered in encouragement. A tightening of the jaw was Luna’s response.

Finally, they had reached the appropriate distance from the dais to curtsey. “My Lady Mothers, Your Majesties… I have come home. I present my friend from the court of Queen Mabh, err…”

“Brid,” Luna curtsied deeply. “I greet you, your Majesties.” Meeting the Queens’ eyes once more, Aurora simply tilted her head in welcome. Maleficent’s eyes tightened in suspicion and barely concealed disdain. Luna’s heart was a traitor, racing quickly in fear at the gaze of the woman who had thrown her away like dirty rags and looked like she’d do the same again. This woman wasn’t loving, or gentle. This woman was a king-murdering, cold blooded, cursing witch of a faery! Unwittingly, Luna took a step backwards as her eyes refused to leave Maleficent’s. They seemed stuck open with glue, forcing her to look upon her greatest nightmare.

Sensing this, the beautifully petite and soft-looking Queen Aurora reached for her. “Brid… Are you quite alright?” Concern laced the woman’s voice. Concern, and a placidity of tone someone might use on a skittish horse.

“F-fine! I’m fine, your Majesty. I am just feeling a wee bit dizzy from not eating enough today, I think.”

“Tsk, that’s not how I taught Isobel. Darling, why did you not stop into an inn or farm to lunch with Brid? You know any innkeeper or citizen would have considered it an honor.” Aurora questioned, very confused.

“Indeed,” Maleficent remarked sarcastically. “Perhaps our erstwhile daughter thought her subjects had forgotten about her as much as she had us.” With that, the lanky faery stood and brushed her hair regally behind her shoulders. Sola stood too, with eyes cynical. Together, they walked out of the hall. Only Aurora remained.

“I…am so, so sorry Isobel; to you as well, Brid. Their feelings were hurt at not having received any letters from Isobel, except for the parchment from Mabh herself telling us of her whereabouts two months later. Your mother had been driven nearly senseless with worry, and your sister felt quite abandoned. You’ll forgive them if they’re a bit recalcitrant for now, won’t you?” Aurora hugged Isobel close, rubbing her compassionate hands over the wings of her daughter before releasing her. Fixing both with a stare, she commanded, “You’ll both sup in a room we’ve prepared for Isobel. There’s a cot for you if you wish it, Brid. Sola refuses to have Isobel with her again just yet.”

Isobel’s heart shattered, and she tried unsuccessfully to withhold her tears as her Mama led her and Luna upstairs. Mother, who was her dearest friend and confidante, _detested_ the sight of her. Her own twin refused her. Why ever did she come home? She _had_ sent letters. Why did they act as if they didn’t receive them?

Sensing Isobel’s despair, Luna squeezed her hand. “I am here,” she whispered in such a serious way that was so like Mother, it made Isobel weep all the more.

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Early the next morning, Luna could stand Isobel’s ridiculously loud snoring no more. Creeping out of the bed they’d shared, she dressed quickly in a damask chemise with stays covered in a rough-spun yellow cotton surcoat that had been hanging nearby. It was well beneath her station, but it would do in her haste. As she walked the hallways back towards the Great Hall, human servants scurried in the early dawn light, preparing for the week’s end festivities. They had days to do so, but their work was not easy without magick, she surmised.

Breathing easily for the first time since she’d arrived, she sensed the tremor of life down a hall to the left, and decided to follow it. Once she drew nearer to the call of plant life, she realized she’d come to the largest greenhouse she’d ever laid eyes upon. It was like an indoor forest, and she sighed with pleasure at the magick woven into the roots.   Tiptoeing down a well-trod cobbled path, she sought the murmur of a flowering dogwood bush asking for assistance. Summoning her draíochta glas,[2] she cupped her hands around the bend of a branch that had been pruned and was bothering the dogwood. A fond look crossed her brow as she closed her eyes and healed the cut. She understood the language of plant life well, and felt a peace within that rivaled nothing else when she practiced her craft in the forests.

“That is fine work, Brid,” a deep, and sleep weary voice said behind her.

Jumping out of her meditation with the dogwood, Luna turned to face the voice. Before her, Maleficent stood.   She looked far different than yesterday evening, without jewelry or adornment. Dressed in a gauzy robe of brown cotton clasped closed at the shoulders with leathers and without the glamour of lip stain, the woman looked like an earth-sprite, fresh in her youthful beauty even in her fifth decade.

Still, she did not smile, but regarded Luna in appraisal. “My girls do not have the aptitude for such tranquil magick, to my quiet disappointment. Sola is high-strung like Aurora, and Isobel is too bookish for the light-hearted spirits that inhabit green things. I daresay you’re as good at draíochtaglas as I was at your age.”

“I… I thank you, your Majesty,” Luna mumbled.

“Ah,” Maleficent waved her hand, “Do not bother with such titles here. It is you and I, girl. I am Maleficent, and you are Brid.”

“Yes, I am Brid.” Luna replied, her tongue heavy with the twisted truth, for she only _appeared_ to be the fictional girl.

Without warning, Maleficent grasped her hands lightly from the dogwood branch and held them, rubbing the tops of her palms. “Do I frighten you, Brid?”

“Honestly your Maj… Maleficent?” Luna considered her words. “I think you would have frightened an entire battalion of high Fae Princes yesterday evening.”

To that reply, Maleficent snorted and gave a sort of crooked toothy face that could have been described as a smile, but was decidedly _not_. “Boo!” she tried to tease, hissing.

Luna jumped and tugged her hands away, wringing them.

A look akin to hurt and shame crossed Maleficent’s eyes, but briefly. They melted back into their indifferent stare so quickly, Luna wasn’t sure she’d witnessed the dark faery emoting at all.

“Easy, easy,” she cooed, but the sound was eerie to Luna’s ears. Her heart began to race. They were alone, and Maleficent could strike her down where they stood. Nobody would have been the wiser. Sensing Luna’s dilemma, the faery Queen sighed resignedly. “I won’t hurt you, Brid. I cannot trust you, and I cannot say that I like you yet, but I won’t harm you.”

“I apologize, Maleficent. It’s just that they tell such stories of your dark powers at court. I expected to find evil as twisted as the seven Hells, but I find I am at war with what I am seeing,” Luna replied nervously.

“Mmmm, I see.” Maleficent murmured, but did not disagree. She walked a few feet to a stone bench, and sat upon it. Looking upwards to the skies turning blue with the rising sun, she closed her eyes as if in pain. Opening them once more, she met Luna’s gaze. “I did many things in my younger years that I regret deeply, Brid. They forever stain my heart and soul with dishonor, shame, and infamy. I deserve the villainy assigned by others, but I do not crave it. I am sorry to have frightened you yesterday.” She then patted the empty seat next to her, welcoming Luna to sit with her.

“I was taught by my Queen Mabh to never regret my actions, for regret darkens the heart forever.” Luna sat on the bench, but as far away from Maleficent as she could without toppling off.

“Well, what a bitter way of looking at it! I suppose she’s correct if you do nothing but regret your actions. You must fill the blackness of your soul with redeeming actions. The light erases the dark, over time.” Maleficent replied measuredly.

A raven flew down from an oak, cawing. He landed on Maleficent’s shoulder, and she cooed and cawed in reply, rubbing her nose to his beak.   “Hello, Diaval. This is Isobel’s friend, Brid.”

The raven’s beady eyes met Luna’s, and he croaked a response and began to flutter over to the pathway. “Into a man,” Maleficent whispered.

Luna willed herself not to shriek as she witnessed Diaval’s transformation into a man. She’d heard of Maleficent’s familiar before, but seeing the breadth of the magickal abilities that she possessed in person left her unsettled.  

“Hullo, Brid. ‘Tis a pleasure ta’ meet a friend of Princess Bel’s,” the bird-man spoke to her.

“Hello, sir.” Luna dipped her head in response.

“Thank ye’ fer healin’ that bush. It’d been goin’ on for days about how sore that branch was. Mistress has been busy preparing for Bel’s return, and I wasn’t sure how much more crabbin’ I could take,” he bantered. Looking once again at his Mistress, he cleared his throat. “I’d like to bathe a bit and eat wit’ ye’ today. I’ve missed Bel.”

Maleficent’s response was swift. “Surely, Diaval. Anything you request.” Her hand waved him off, and the bird-man bobbed his bow of thanks, walking off back towards the castle halls.

“Now, where were we before being so rudely interrupted?” Maleficent wondered aloud, humor lacing her voice.

“You… you were saying how you regretted your past actions, and did things to erase the darkness.” Luna responded. Her heart burned at the question running through her mind that she did not dare speak aloud. _What did you do to erase the darkness of throwing me away?_

“Ah, yes. For instance – I’ve killed before, out of necessity and defense. I remember each of their faces when I bring forth life here, and in the Moors. I erase the regret and sadness that way… Or at least, I attempt to. Some faces, I’ll never be able to erase.”

“Whose?” Luna murmured.

Slightly startled at the girl’s forwardness, Maleficent turned her gaze at the blonde with the glowing violet eyes and brown-bronze wings. “Never you mind, young Brid. It was tit-for-tat, but his face as he fell from my arms still haunts me. Have you ever loved someone so deeply, that his or her betrayal begins to destroy your very soul? Have you wished to cut them out of your heart with burning hatred?”

“Yes,” Luna answered honestly, looking down at the pathway, unwilling to meet Maleficent’s eyes.

“But you are so young!” the elder faery’s voice was shocked.

“My…My mother did not want me.” Luna whispered. “She hated me, because I made her weak. I’ve held a special hatred for her in return, for many years.”

With that admission, Maleficent sat back and stared at the melancholy figure seated before her. “Have you killed before, Brid?”

“Yes,” came the quiet reply.

“Murdered?” Maleficent was scandalized.

“No! They were human criminals that had crossed our borders. It was justice.” Luna protested.

A tender hand cupped Luna’s once more, and another tipped her chin up to face Maleficent’s shaken face. “We do not murder humans who cross our borders here, even those who attempt to steal from us. Here, we seek peace, and judgments are meted out accordingly. I learned long ago that war only begets more war. Can I trust you to seek peace while you’re in residence with us?”

“Of course, Maleficent. This is your realm, not mine,” Luna promised.

Nodding in satisfaction, with eyes still a tad wary, Maleficent patted her hand. Rising once more, the faery Queen looked down at Luna.   “Brid, your mother was wrong to think that of you. I do not know the entire situation, but every bairn is a blessing. Her Majesty Aurora and I wished for a wee one to fill my womb, but I’ve long accepted the Gods’ judgment in my barrenness. I have to hold on dearly to the ones the Gods have blessed us with. Please, be a good friend to Isobel. I may be cross with her now, but I love her with the warmth of a million suns. I’ll work out my ire soon enough.”

“Of course, I am always Isobel’s friend. No matter what,” the younger faery responded.

Maleficent smiled, then; a true, and blissful smile. “Shall we break our fast, Brid?”

“I seem to have lost my appetite, Maleficent. Perhaps I’ll see you at dinner?” Tears filled Luna’s eyes as she looked up at her birthmother. The sun had begun to creep over the edge of the greenhouse windows, and the rays that shone from behind the horned faery made her appear beatific. Maleficent looked confused, but nodded her assent and took her leave.

Luna trembled, and held herself firmly within her wings for comfort. The silver-sheathed iron dagger strapped to her thigh sat accusingly.

 

 

 

[1] Aingeal – angel

[2] draíochtaglas – Green magick


	18. Amháin Páise (There Is Only Passion)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Oh dear, what’s a poor Luna to do? Stay tuned to find out. We’ll get to some Sola and her views on the happenings in this chapter. I’ve missed writing her!
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> Sleepsong by Secret Garden
> 
> Shatter Me by Linsdey Stirling, featuring Lzzy Hale

  


**"Anger is a momentary madness, so control your passion or it will control you." - Horace  
**

Maleficent rose up in bed, gripping at her shoulders between her wings in terror. Her eyes were still shut, and her face screwed up into a traumatized grimace. She howled in pain so loudly that Aurora startled awake next to her.

 

Sensing the nightmare that visited Maleficent thousands of nights during their years together, Aurora grasped around her love’s waist tightly and soothed as best she could. With firm reassurances that it was a dream, and that the faery’s wings were indeed still intact, the blonde tried to reason with her frenetic mate.

 

“Aaaaaaahhhh!” Maleficent wailed, shaking hands clawing at her chest and back to her wings again. “ _No_!” she begged.

 

“Darling, _precious one_ …” Aurora pleaded. “You’re home, you’re safe!” Maleficent’s ribcage trembled and inhaled great gulps of air underneath her slim arms, shaking the petite woman as she clutched tightly.

 

After ten or so minutes of writhing, the larger woman had calmed enough to wipe at her unfocused eyes and willed her stomach not to retch. The well-defined muscles of her back and scapulae twitched and contorted, moving her wings in a similar fashion. Looking around the bedchamber in intense fright, she found herself not laid on moss in the Moors on that fateful morning, but in her warm bed in the middle of the night.   Still, her senses were on high alert.

 

“There you are,” Aurora fussed lovingly. “It was just a nightmare. That’s your second this week. My poor Malle…” She ran her hands lightly through the long brown tresses of her lover that had tangled around horns and pillow in the thrashing.  

 

Maleficent swore an oath and lay down, burying her face into Aurora’s chest to hide her tears. Her Queen’s hands continued to run through her hair, sharp nails tickling her scalp to distract her. “Oh, ‘Rora. It was so…” her mouth ran dry as her stomach clenched riotously.

 

“I know, Malle.   Shhh, I know.” Aurora hushed her, and tucked a blanket’s weight around her tightly curled wings, patting them gently.

 

The appendages were trying to become as small as possible, hiding flush against her back and thighs. They were as terrified as she. Maleficent knew there wasn’t a good chance she’d be sleeping again this night, unless…

 

Aurora tucked her chin over the top of Maleficent’s head and kissed the first horn she found. She began the lullaby without having to be asked. By the time she’d finished singing, the faery was once again fast asleep against her breast.   She murmured her undying love to the miracle encased in her arms and closed her eyes once more as well.

 

Behind the dressing screen near the fireplace, Luna wept into her clutched hands, biting at the flesh to keep from crying out.   Her birthmother’s wings could sense her near every night she unsheathed the dagger, and the thrashing and yelping would begin anew. Each scream of horror that poured from Maleficent’s lips drove ice further into Luna’s veins. Would she screech like that if the dagger entered her chest, rather than her back? Would she look into her daughter’s eyes and howl in the same betrayal as her élan[1] escaped?

 

Once she’d calmed herself and heard the telltale snores of both Queens, she crept light as air through the hidden door underneath a tapestry, cursing her weakness. It had been two days since Sola and Isobel’s birthday fete, and every day Maleficent acted more sweetly to her. She’d even pulled a fine black gown of the most delicate laced weave and sparkling overlay from deep within her wardrobe last night for Luna to wear today, insisting that it was nothing all the while. Isobel and Sola’s ogling faces had told her another story. However, all of these niceties for a girl who seemed a stranger pricked her heart deeply. If Maleficent could love some ragamuffin that Isobel brought home, why couldn’t she love the _real_ Luna?

 

She thought back of when Isobel had tried to weasel an explanation as to Luna’s “demise” out of their mother. At private breakfast the day of the party, Bel had repeated the “information she’d learned from the Book of Births,” but was met with a swift censure about privacy from Queen Aurora.

 

Maleficent hadn’t denied Luna’s birth, but had looked ill and impossibly defeated at Isobel’s questions, and left her breakfast untouched. She’d walked the hallways for endless hours that day, seemingly heartbroken.   “Why does Isobel seek to wound me so, Aurora?” she’d asked the Queen pitiably when the latter had finally dragged Maleficent to bed. They’d stayed awake, curled in each other’s arms all night, whispering sweet nothings and moaning ridiculously solemn vows of truest love. Luna had crept swiftly to the servant’s closet to boak[2] in a bucket, and lost her opportunity that evening.

 

She’d lost it again tonight and yesterday because of her birthmother’s alarmingly aware wings. Gritting her teeth in frustration at her plan of revenge being unfulfilled, she glared back at the secret door. “Fack! You _would_ make me love you after so long, wouldn’t you?” she cursed.

 

**BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB**

Sola woke early, and shrugged her ruffled blouse and leathers on quickly. She flew down to the smithy to finish her sword of bronze and silver, and was infinitely proud of the work she’d been able to do. She wanted to present it to Mother mid-day to show her how hard she’d been working at the traditional Aes Sídhe[3] metallurgical craft. She’d just need to make some final balancing adjustments and put protective enchantments on the blade, now.

 

She’d been blessed with passion, and passion she finally found in the defensive arts – practicing Glamour and glamour Seeing, combat, and metallurgy. Mama had bemoaned her hobbies over the past year as unladylike, but indulgently allowed Sola to follow her skills.   She’d only gotten truly upset when Sola had continued to shear her hair short to shoulder-length. Mother had looked upon that argument with barely concealed amusement. Sola’s heart had soared that day – Mother had sided _with her._ “After all,” Maleficent had teased, “Sola doesn’t look well in my caps.”

 

Polishing the blade lovingly for the better part of the morning, she finally paused to blow across the sharp edge. The metals began to glow and whistle in response. Kissing the hilt to show her loyalty to the weapon, she wove her magick. “Thy sword of truth, forever fly swift and sure, that evil die and good endure,[4]” she murmured. The sword vibrated its excited reply, and she grinned. It was ready.

 

Fluttering eagerly into the castle bailey, Sola sheathed the lissome blade and marched happily towards the commons. Spotting a page, she stopped to request the whereabouts of her mothers. They were picnicking with Isobel and Brid in the east fields, and she munched an apple nabbed from a cart as she walked there.

 

Cresting the hill just beyond the creek that ran near the east end of the castle, she overheard joyous laughter from Brid and Isobel as they listened to Mama joke about something. Mother lounged, eyes closed against the warm sun, with a look of peaceful contentment. The entire scene made jealousy rise in her gut, rankling her feathers.

 

Sola did not like Brid. It wasn’t enough that the Unseelie orphan girl had usurped her place in Isobel’s heart over the past months, but then she came to stay with them. Mother, who rarely lent her finest gowns to Isobel or Sola, gladly allowed Brid to wear the dress she’d worn to Mama’s coronation. Sola had begged for that gown for years, only to be consistently turned down. Mama gave Brid the kindest hugs, and lent a sympathetic ear to the older girl’s near-constant depressed moods.

 

But, that wasn’t what bothered Sola most about Brid. She could See that Brid hid behind a fairly comprehensive glamour that worked far beyond lip stain or eye color. She couldn’t tell what was disguised precisely, but knew the enchantment to be decisively extensive. It wasn’t rare for the Fae to glamour themselves into unearthly beauty, but she felt that Brid was not trustworthy. Did Isobel even know what the girl truly looked like?

 

“Sola! Oh, you haven’t changed out of your leathers yet?” her mama’s disappointed tone met her ears. Sola had always been closest to Mama until last year when Isobel flew the coop, so her assessment stung deeply.   Sola’s shoulders hunched. She doubted Mama would ever forgive her completely for cursing her back to sleep; however well the outcome was.

 

“Oh, come Aurora. Leave off the poor girl,” her mother smirked while standing to greet her. “Hello, Sola. Where have you been off to all morning long?” The once-distant woman squeezed her shoulder and met her eyes with genuine curiosity, and it was a balm to her heart. They’d both tried so hard to overcome their differences, it was now hard to imagine that they had once preferred to be alone than in the company of one another.

 

“I’ve finished my blade, Mother!” Sola exclaimed proudly. She unsheathed the sword and bobbed a quick bow to Maleficent as she held it across her palms for inspection.

 

The elder faery’s eyes grew wide as she took in the well-wrought weapon, the fine scroll detailing and the glow of solid enchantment. “Oh, but Sola! This is a treasure!” she gasped. Maleficent’s eyes narrowed in appreciation, then. “Show me,” she demanded, stepping backwards onto the field and waving the princess forward.

 

“Oh, be careful!” Aurora worried aloud from the blankets. Isobel and Brid sat silently communicating with their eyes, and it distracted Sola from her mother’s offensive strike. A stinging hex met her shoulder, and she yelped.

 

Maleficent crowed then, in a kind of joy she only found when beating the fluff out of something or _someone_. It sent a shiver down Sola’s spine, but made her grin as well. She understood her mother so much better these days. She’d taught Sola the finer points of combat herself, and the two had rolled around these hills many an afternoon, dirty and unashamed as they flung spells and whacked at each other.

 

In response to the stinging burn on her shoulder, Sola folded the hilt of her blade across the back of her palm in a figure-eight, grasping it at ready again in a show of her skill. She puffed her wings out and firmed her knees, glaring up at her mother.

 

Maleficent looked sideways at her over eager daughter, and her eyes glinted in the noon sun. Sola had the good sense to swallow in an attempt to quell her fear, then. Suddenly, her mother was enveloped in an unnerving yellow-green glow and she gathered balls of magick in each hand.

 

Sola winced, then. Two hexes at once, with one blade. She’d have to be light on her feet.

 

She saw the first of the hexes launch at her right thigh, and spun to the left to dodge it. This put her directly in line to receive the second spell right in her chest – a near fatal blow for a mortal if Maleficent were angry enough. It would incapacitate a faery long enough for a fatal blow to be laid. Sola’s eyes widened as her blade lifted of it’s own accord in her hands to meet the enchantment head-on. As the ball of energy met the sword, it clanged loudly like metal on metal, returning the hex to her mother. What they hadn’t been expecting was the speed of the defensive action.

 

Maleficent was struck squarely in the abdomen and thrust backwards, landing roughly and skidding to a stop. She lay still for a moment, her arm draped dramatically across her face. Aurora yelped and ran to her Maleficent’s side, only to smack her when Maleficent’s wry grin gave away that she was just fine.

 

“Whew, Sola!” her mother shook her head and fluffed her wings as she finally sat up. “That is quite the friend you have there. Your blade protects you well.”

 

Sola grinned with uncontained mirth as she plopped down on the blankets, snatching a handful of grapes.

 

Maleficent looked at the remaining three. “Well, anyone else want a go at me today?” she laughed, but somewhat mirthlessly. The hex had truly hurt, the blade magnifying it on the defense. She didn’t mention it, not wanting Sola to feel guilty.

 

Aurora lifted her nose and pretended to ignore the offer, while Isobel shook her head quickly.

 

Brid however, popped up and chirped her assent. “I’d like to spar!”

 

At this, both Maleficent and Sola looked surprised. Brid had always seemed nervous and frightened around the elder faery.

 

“Ah, so you’ve finally gotten over your fear of me now that you’ve seen my own daughter knock at me?” Maleficent joked.

 

“Naturally, your Majesty,” was Brid’s teasing reply, as she swatted away Isobel’s pulling hands and ignored her entreating stares. “We don’t have two blades, so let’s say no weapons?”

 

“No weapons,” Maleficent replied, holding her arm out in a flourish to welcome Brid onto the “battlefield.”

 

“This is bad,” Isobel moaned. Sola turned back at her and glared. If their mother knocked any sense into the Unseelie faery, it would be worth it to watch.

 

Brid was surprisingly good at quick combat enchantments, lobbing them as she cartwheeled and flipped across the field to avoid Maleficent’s more solid, but slower spells. As is the case with most uneven matches, Sola found herself betting on her mother’s calm and skill against Brid’s high-energy antics. The younger faery would soon tire.

 

After ten minutes of deflecting and defensive postures, Maleficent got serious as Brid slowed in stamina. She lay one stinging hex on the girl after the other, after the other. Aurora groaned from behind her hands, peeking here and there. Still, Brid did not parry with her own hex.

 

Sensing a melee approaching, Sola called the match to her mother. Maleficent stopped and reached down to comfort the panting girl faery who had curled up on the grass in her last defense. Suddenly, Brid screeched and jumped atop Maleficent, knocking the elder faery unaware and out of breath against the hard packed earth with a particularly nasty offensive binding charm that rendered one’s opponent’s wings useless for a few minutes at least.

 

Maleficent’s shout of displeasure at that was understandable. She smacked Brid’s hands away forcefully, but the young faery wouldn’t budge off of her.

 

“Ay, Brid! Bad form!” Sola called from the blankets. She was worried that Mother would certainly thrash the idiot girl later.

 

Without warning, Brid raised a dagger above her head, poised for Maleficent’s chest.  

 

It didn’t glint in the sun. Time seemed to move in slow motion to Sola in the moments that the iron blade came down. She vaguely heard Isobel’s fervent cries as Mama held her back in fear. She may have smelled Mother’s burning flesh as she blocked the blade with her own hands, screaming in pain.

 

Sola certainly felt laying a hex on Brid with such force that the girl was swept back with an oomph off of Maleficent. She relished in the crunch of bone as she punched the girl’s face, and she barely felt the deep burn of the iron blade as she snatched the dagger from the scrabbling hands that scratched at her in defense, throwing it as far into the field as she could.

 

Sola was aware of her mother limping over to the scene, eyes full of rage.

 

Maleficent grabbed Brid’s hands and held them down.   “Stop!” she commanded. “ _Stop now, or you’ll forfeit your life!”_

 

With that announcement, Brid laid stock still, her wide violet eyes full of the deepest hatred towards Maleficent.   Sola took the opportunity she’d long waited for. “Let’s see what you really look like, Brid! If that’s even your real name, Unseelie!”

 

Maleficent furiously nodded her assent, and Sola murmured the reverse enchantment for glamours. It was against the Laws to do so to a faery without their consent, but she was sure that an attempt on her mother’s life was reason enough to bend the laws for a day.

 

Isobel bawled, restrained by Mama. “Mother, donnae kill her. _MOTHER!”_

Touching her glowing hands to Brid’s cheeks, Sola bit back a curse she’d like to have laid. Heavy glamour melted away platinum blonde curls to reveal long, silken waves of mahogany. Skin paled, and Brid’s nose wrenched back into place from having been broken moments before. Lips plumped and darkened. Finally, the violet eyes faded away into iced teal, blue, and golden.

 

Sola shrieked, leaping off of the girl. “It’s a demon! She has glamours under her glamours!”

 

Maleficent gasped and bit her lip to keep from screaming at the sight laid before her. Below the tight grip of her painfully burnt hands writhed the purest vision of herself as a young teenager. “Who are you?” she hissed.

 

Isobel broke free from Aurora’s weakening grasp, for the Queen too was stunned into lethargy. “Tell them!” she cried. “Please, just tell them!”

 

Beneath Maleficent, Luna stared up at her mother, tears of desperation traitorously leaking from the edges of her eyes. She spat upwards, and then responded. “I am called Luna, and I am the child you threw away.”

 

 

[1] élan – soul, essence.

[2] Boak - vomit

[3] Aes Sídhe – faery race, survivors of the Tuatha Dé Danann who retreated into the “Land of Faerie” (Moors) after they were defeated by the Milesians (Iron wearers.)

[4] The 1959 movie’s sword enchantment given by Flora, based on the Tuatha Dé Danann King Nuadu’s Sword of Light. No one ever escaped from it once it was drawn from its sheath. Celtic heroes would call upon the Sword of Light to assist them in conquering evil, and it would appear – usually saving a damsel in distress.

 


	19. Dearbhú Cogaidh (Declaration of War)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Whew, what a chapter. I apologize for not being able to upload until this evening – I had the chapter all written but my computer decided not to save it. Oops :/ I hope you enjoy it, anyhow.
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> The Change by Evanescence
> 
> Give Unto Me by Evanescence (a little hard to find, it’s on YouTube)

  
 

Raw hatred took its time  
making an outpost of its rage  
and prepared for me a savage crown  
with rusty, bloodstained spikes.  
It wasn’t pride that made me keep  
my heart at a distance from such terror,  
nor did I waste  
on revenge  
or the pursuit of power  
the forces that came from my selfish griefs  
or my accumulated joys.  
It was something else—my helplessness.  
–Pablo Neruda, “To Envy”

 

Those eyes – the very same eyes that stared back at her in a mirror, or when she looked at her dear sister. Those eyes that she’d hated for so long gazed upon her face as if she were a miracle. Whomever had written in the books that Maleficent was a cold and indifferent creature were certainly not staring at her now, as the emotions in her eyes seared and roiled: from doubt, to curiosity, and then to awe. They morphed into joy and then indescribable sorrow before finally resting on pure, unadulterated hatred. An iron-scalded hand rose, and Luna winced in anticipation of a blow. Instead, the hand curled underneath crimson lips pursed as if to kiss. Tendrils of golden magick blew forth from the mouth, but no words were heard. _‘Sleep now,_ ’ the spell sang.

 

Darkness came over Luna’s eyes as she fell into a void. A feeling of comfort enveloped her like winter-fluffed wings. She was aware of muffled shouting around her, but her hearing was as if she were underwater. _“Why?”_ More muffled pleading. _“You knew!”_ And then, Luna could hear Isobel’s despondent crying. _Oh, Isobel. Don’t cry, Isobel._

Floating upwards, she bumped into a warm body. Arms cradled her firmly, and it would have been a reassuring gesture if fingernails at her shoulder and hip didn’t clutch sharply. The talons bit into her flesh as they flexed, drawing her impossibly closer. Luna smelled bergamot and amber musk and felt the soft silk of crisscrossed robes over breasts against her cheek. _Maleficent._

They were flying now, Luna could sense as her heart moved slowly towards her throat. Air whistled past her ears and silken hair tickled her nose. She felt the warmth of the sun against her face as they rose up, and up, and up. Would the arms that held her so fast drop her now from these great heights? As if sensing her question, the hands squeezed against her. _Oh, hard to breathe. Breathe, Luna. In, and out. Bergamot and musk._

 

The slapping of bare feet against stone announced that they had landed. Down into the castle keep they walked, with shouts of curiosity from men and women alike sounding as they went. _“She is the Princess Luna,”_ Maleficent responded to each inquiry, her tone daring them to question her. _Yes, one long lost princess reporting for duty,_ Luna thought derisively.

 

They kept going downwards, and Luna smelled dankness. Shadows crossed her eyelids as they went deeper into the cold room, and she was laid gently onto soft blankets that smelled of Sola. She knew they belonged to Sola for their unique scent of Queen Aurora’s sunshine and lavender scent mixed with an undercurrent of bergamot.

 

A weight sat next to her on what must be a cot, causing it to dip down. Gentle, cool fingertips brushed along her forehead and down the slope of her nose, followed by her cheekbones. A thumb padded her lower lip in the examination. Hands cupped her cheeks, caressing them. Maleficent’s voice cracked as she began to speak. “ _Luna_ ,” the voice faltered a moment, “ _Multiply this moment by infinity, take it to the depths of forever and you'll still only have a glimpse of how much I love you. I have always loved you."_

Bare footfalls moved slowly away then, with the swish of silks. _“Open this for anyone but me, and you’ll wish you’d never been born.”_ Maleficent commanded. A guard stammered his summary reply, and the clanking of the door closing followed by the turn of a padlock echoed.

 

 _‘Awaken now,’_ came the counter spell, tickling the back of Luna’s mind. She shot up like a dart, scrambling towards the door of her cell. She screamed in fury, climbing up the bars like a caged animal. The hex that she would have like to lob at the retreating form of Maleficent sparked and died on her hands. Looking down at them in confusion, the guard made himself known.

 

“Them rear window bars be iron, child. Only faery magick I’ve seen done near this cell is Queen Maleficent’s. Princess Sola could nary lift her little finger,” he chuckled.

 

Luna threw her head back, screams pealing anew. She pressed her face against the cool newly smelt bronze bars and called for Isobel, and for her release.  

 

Walking up the stairwell, Maleficent tripped at the sound, grasping her chest in pain where her heart lay.

 

**BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB**

The aroma of breakfast wafted through the cell, and Luna opened her bleary eyes to the early morning light cascading from the high window. Unfurling her wings from around her, she sat up slowly and hissed in pain. The cot was decidedly not comfortable. She’s stayed up half the night, yelling and pulling on the door until her voice died, and only collapsed in the wee hours of the morning.

 

As her vision focused, she saw a figure sitting in the shadows. Upon closer inspection, Queen Aurora sat not with her perennially jubilant and happy face, but with an expression full of exhaustion and deep sadness. “Good morning, Luna,” the Queen whispered.

 

“Is it a good morning now, your Majesty?” Luna bit back at her, and then quelled her irritation. “I apologize, Queen Aurora. You do not deserve my anger.”

 

“Oh, I see,” Aurora nodded. “I do not deserve your anger, but your mother does?” She seemed to ponder this, and awaited Luna’s reply.

 

“She hates me! She didn’t want me, and abandoned me on a damned rosebud in the Moors! Why else would she deserve my anger?” Luna sniped.

 

With that, Aurora rose to her full height and advanced quickly towards the cell door. The pure, unsullied pain in her deep blue eyes stunned Luna, and she fell ungracefully to the floor with a yelp. “Now that is simply _not true,_ Luna! Your mother has never, ever hated you. We wanted you dearly, beyond all hope. You… You didn’t root well within Maleficent, for whatever reason. You weren’t _born,_ she miscarried you in Bealtaine all those years ago. There was blood everywhere. A piece of your mother’s heart died that day, I swear it…” Aurora’s voice fell to a whisper as her eyes glazed in memory. “The rosebush you were bound to bloomed the night of your conception. That rosebush _saved_ your life. You are the product of our love, the very essence of us… our gift from the Moors. How could you think that we didn’t want you?”

 

Luna began to speak, but Aurora interrupted her as she began to pace. “No, I am speaking now. If we had known, had even an inkling that you were bound to the rose… We would have taken you with us. We would have found a way! I don’t even know how we would have unbound you…”

 

“Queen Mabh said that she unbound me and put my élan into a human babe who had lost their mother in childbirth.” Luna murmured.

 

Aurora’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she gave a sigh as she sat back down. “I suppose she’s the same queen who has told you all these years that Maleficent hated you, and never wanted you?”

 

“Yes,” Luna whispered, her chin falling to her chest in shame at having betrayed her allegiance to the Unseelie Queen, but also for believing her twisted version of the story for so long. She’d believed the tales the courtiers had spun about the witch faery who could kill with a single glance, who cursed babies and ate the flesh of her enemies. Those tales had haunted her dreams when she was a youngling. Isobel had tried to tell her for so long over the past months that while Maleficent was a detached and laid-back mother, she was loving nevertheless. _‘Mother allows us to fall down, so that we’re strong enough to get back up,’_ Bel had said. And now, Queen Aurora was telling her the details – finally cementing the events she’d wondered at for so very long. How very wrong she’d been…

 

A shadow loomed just beyond the corner of the dungeon hallway, and Aurora’s eyes followed Luna’s to it. Waggling her eyebrows mischievously, Aurora called out to the silhouette. “We know that you’re there, Maleficent. Don’t be afraid, come out.”

 

A somewhat gloomy laugh came from the hallway. Maleficent moved around the corner to stand beside Aurora. She was robed in the finest textured shimmersilk of black, and capped in leather and snakeskin, which wrapped up her horns. Such a display might frighten and intimidate humans, but to Luna’s eyes, Maleficent was a vision. After all, she had grown up surrounded by the standards of darkest beauty.

 

Apparently, Queen Aurora did not share her assessment. “It’s called a brush, Malle,” she grumbled.

 

Maleficent pretended to ignore the jab, pursing her lips in a mimic of a kiss as she looked down affectionately at the petite blonde faery and squeezed her shoulder. “Ah, but I’d barely slept my love. Besides, you love this cap. _Up, up,”_ she teased lightly in a baby’s voice.

 

Aurora glared balefully, but then gave a wry half-smile.

 

Though she didn’t understand the inside joke, seeing her mothers acting in such a loving and relaxed way with each other sent tendrils of warmth into Luna’s cold heart. She’d only ever seen them acting as royals before, as she was pretending to be a visitor in their home. It was clear that the sun rose and set with Aurora for Maleficent, and that Aurora adored her in return. This is the love that changed Maleficent from a revenge-seeking tyrant into the protective, devoted mate and mother she saw now. This was the love that made her true again.

 

Maleficent looked down to the breakfast tray with an eyebrow raised. “Come now, Aurora. Mollifying our child with food, are you?” Her finger dipped into the oatmeal, and brought some to her mouth. Instantly, the stern face screwed up and she spit the oatmeal back into a napkin indelicately. “Ugh! No honey, and it has gone cold! Wherever is the honey?” she demanded.

 

“Far be it from you to placate our children with food, Maleficent.” Aurora joked.

 

“Mmmm,” was Maleficent’s measured reply, but her eyes glimmered in humor. Luna realized that her mother was a woman of few words, but the few words meant so _many._

 

Her attention was focused on Luna now, and she stepped over to stand at the door to her cell. Eyes narrowed in scrutiny, and she pondered the sight before her. “Hmmmm. You’re filthy from your tantrums, but no longer screeching and hopping about...” she voiced drily.   “How about a nice hot bath and some real food? I fear that Isobel will bite me if I do not release you to your chambers soon, and I don’t wish to feel her sharp chomping. Can I trust you not to run?”

 

Luna looked up and responded quietly, “Y-yes. Queen Aurora has told me the truth of my… circumstances. I will not hurt anyone, and I will not run. I swear it.”

 

“Well, _alright_ then.” Maleficent accepted, her tone only slightly suspicious.   As she unlocked the cell door and reached down to help Luna up, her hands came from beneath her robes. They were bandaged with muslin, but Luna could see that there was still fresh blood seeping from underneath the wrappings.

 

“Oh, your hands!” she exclaimed, taking one of the willowy thin palms between her own. Maleficent snatched the hand back, cradling it against her chest. Aurora had stood quickly, putting her hand on Maleficent’s shoulder in an attempt to calm the rapidly breathing, wide-eyed faery. As soon as she leaned into the Queen’s touch, she sighed deeply. “I am sorry, Luna. You startled me, is all.”

 

Luna felt tears roll down her cheeks as she reached forward again, much more slowly. “Why haven’t your hands healed? I’ve never seen iron burns bleed before.”

 

“Your dagger, Luna… It’s not human hot-worked steel that’s often polluted with other minerals because of their substandard smithy processes. It’s nearly pure iron ore. That dagger came into these lands a millennia ago, with terrible invaders who sought to kill off the faery kings and queens. They very well nearly succeeded. Iron this pure causes wounds that are extremely hard to heal, and takes great focus.” Maleficent murmured. “Of course, I haven’t precisely been focusing on my hands.”

 

Luna’s heart filled with dread at the information. She’d been gifted the dagger on her 13th name day from Queen Mabh, who had warned Luna against touching the dagger, lest she fall into the terrible pains that her enemies that fell upon it would. She’d never imagined that the dagger was so very dangerous, or that it had been made by their race’s enemies to vanquish them. She’d never thought that she would _care._ Her face crumpled in a reflection of the pain in her chest, and sobs began to escape her whimpering lips. She tugged the hand to her face by the wrist and held it there; seeking the sensation of tenderness she’d felt when the hands stroked her cheeks the night before. “Mother,” she whimpered. “Oh Mother, I’m so sorry.”

 

Swiftly, she was pulled into an embrace. Arms encircled her and held snugly as her face was pressed against Maleficent’s chest. At the sound of the heart beating that she had sought to silence forever less than twenty-four hours prior, Luna wept even louder. The walls surrounding her heart crumbled, and all the feelings of worthlessness and abandonment spilled forth. “I thought…I thought for so long that you didn’t love me,” she cried.

 

“Ná caoin iníon. Ná caoin, tá mé anseo. I am here,”[1] came the reply, and Luna felt the chest beneath her cheek vibrate with it. The strong arms flexed their protective might, and Luna burrowed her face deeper still. She inhaled her mother’s scent, and felt _safe._

**BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB**

By the crackling fire in her high backed chair, Aurora dozed in utter exhaustion. They’d come up the stairs only a short while ago, but the diminutive woman’s psyche could take no more stress.   She twitched and muttered in her sleep, snorting and stopping. Maleficent wanted to put her to bed for a better rest, but instead she sat at their writing desk, her excruciatingly wounded hands stroking a piece of parchment flat. She’d have to do something about them, and it couldn’t be soon enough. She’d need Isobel’s help, though.

 

With all three girls accounted for and in a steaming hot bath, watched over by the biggest and strongest handmaids she could find, Maleficent had turned her thoughts to the Unseelie Queen and her obvious desire to murder her. Why would her great grand-aunt wish to strike her from the world? What had she done to offend her? She wasn’t entirely sure, but animosity lodged deep in her gut for the woman who stole her child. Looking back on it, she’d probably contrived some plan to make Maleficent miscarry, and when that did not kill Luna’s élan, Mabh had been forced to spirit the child away once she and Aurora had left for the season.

 

It didn’t matter why so much anymore to Maleficent, but there needed to be a response. This was an age-old game to the faery courts, and she’d been sucked in. Her family had suffered deeply, and she was angry. Oh, she was but _incensed_.

 

Picking up the quill that rested in the inkpot, a malicious grin crossed her face. She too could play this game. She considered her words carefully, for she suspected that the parchment she would send would at the very least cause enmity between them, and possibly war. The nib scratched as she carefully spelled out the words in their language. Diaval cocked his head on her shoulder, clacking his beak as if wondering what it said. Yes, this would do very nicely.

  

 

Mabh Regina,

 

Tá tú go bhfuil teipthe.  
  
Gabhaim buíochasleat asardú moálainn

ardaigh isteach i sórt sin a cailín grámhara.

 

Mhéin[2],

 

**Maleficent Regina**

 

 

 

 

[1] Ná caoin iníon, ná caoin. Tá mé anseo. – Don’t cry, my daughter. Don’t cry, I am here.

[2] Tá tú go bhfuil teipthe. Gabhaim buíochas leat as ardú mo álainn ardaigh isteach i sórt sin a cailín grámhara. Mhéin, - You have failed. I thank you for raising my beautiful rose into such a loving girl. Regards,


	20. Fiáin agus Nach milis (Wild and Untamed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Sorry about the slight delay, guys and dolls. I needed to make sure this chappie was up to snuff after the last debacle suffered at the hands of my iMac of doom.  
> Anyhoo – back to the Moors-verse. Reads and reviews are gifted a Popsicle on this damned hot day. You’re gonna need it, trust me.
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> Are You Hurting the One You Love? and  
> Kiss with a Fist, both by Florence + the Machine

 

****

 

Cerulean eyes stared off in deep offense, the fire nearby reflecting in their depths making it look as if ice were aflame. Aurora tried to control her breathing, but she’d yet to learn how to control the breadth of her newly acquired faery emotions, which ran so much more deeply than her human ones. Looking back, anger as a human was a drop of cool water to the embers that smoldered in her heart now.   Her chest heaved, hot air puffing past her lips as her hand gripped a piece of parchment so tightly she was sure it would crumble.

 

Uncrumpling it, she looked down again to the red ink that she was _sure_ was blood. The missive was a blood oath.

 

Aurora Regina,

 

Deir siad i pósadh: Cad é mianach mianach, agus cad é mise mianach.  
Dearbhófar do maité ar baois a bheith ar do chuid féin.  
Tá slabhra ar bith níos láidre ná an lúb is laige,

agus tá an saol tar éis an tsaoil slabhra.  
Beidh tú a bheith ar an slabhra a ghearradh as a anáil.

 

Mo comhbhrón[1],

 

Mabh Regina

 

It had only been short of a week since Luna’s reveal, and already the Queen of the Unseelie was sending correspondence back, with _Diaval_ of all things, threatening... to what? To take Aurora out of the world? Was this a threat specifically for her, or a declaration of war? Over and over she read it, trying to make sense of the circular faery riddles. One line set her teeth on edge particularly: ‘Your mate’s folly will be your own.’ What folly of Maleficent’s was the dark Queen speaking of?

 

Five days. It had been five days, and all there had been was infighting and arguing between the girls. Normally, Maleficent would have put a quick end to such foolishness, but she’d merely sat back to watch as if she were enjoying a play. Isobel was playing the victim, Sola the instigator, and Luna the martyr. It hadn’t come to blows yet, but it was enough to set Aurora’s teeth on edge.

 

As if bidden by her thoughts, Maleficent entered their bedchamber. It was late evening, and she’d obviously just returned from her weekly check on the state of the Moors. Her hair and gown windblown, she shook them out, bringing forth the smells of fresh air and burning leaves of the countryside. A rare smile graced her claret lips, but the smile quickly died as she took in Aurora standing by the fireplace.

 

Quickly, she wiped her feet on the sisal rug nearest the door and crossed the room. “Whatever is the matter, Aurora?”

 

Aurora opened her mouth as if to answer, but a choking sound came out instead. She lifted the parchment laden hand, and shook it at Maleficent. Finally, the words formed in her throat. “What. Is. This?” she seethed.

 

Maleficent regarded her with an uncomprehending stare, but Aurora could see the tells of her mate’s face that ran deeper than the calm facade she put forth. Her right eyebrow had raised slightly, and her eyes had flickered down towards the parchment and back up. Maleficent had a _very_ good idea as to what was going on, but she wasn’t going to spell it out.

 

That only served to incense Aurora further. Wings trembling with ill-concealed irritation, she asked again. “Maleficent, I said... What is this?”

 

Eyes widened then at her mettle, and the facade began to crumble. “I suppose it’s a parchment, Aurora,” Maleficent shrugged her shoulders slightly.

 

“Augh! You know very well what this is. It’s a response from Queen Mabh to a letter that I did not send. Therefore, you must have sent one... without consulting me first!” Aurora’s voice was venomous. “I cannot make heads or tails of it all, but I know she threatens to have my head!”

 

At that pronouncement, Maleficent swiftly snatched the parchment from Aurora’s fingers to scowl at it. “She wouldn’t _dare..._ ”

 

The little Queen stuffed herself into the taller faery’s proximity so that she could glare upwards directly. “Oh, she dares! Just as you dare to send declarations to an enemy without telling me first.”

 

Maleficent glowered down at Aurora, her voice clipped and short. “You were asleep, exhausted from stress. You’ve always trusted my better judgement. What should be so different now?”

 

“I am thirty-six years old!” Aurora bellowed impudently.

 

“And I fifty-seven...” came the sarcastic reply.

 

A strangled noise left Aurora’s mouth, and her eyes blazed. “I am not a child anymore!” she said.

 

Maleficent looked Aurora up and down with a roving eye. “I should certainly hope not.” She raised an eyebrow further, and smirked.

 

Aurora’s anger flared to a breaking point, and a glow rose around her. As Maleficent’s eyes widened at the sparks swirling around her mate, a hand flew up to meet her face. _Slap!_ Taking a quick step backwards, she lifted one hand in defense as the other met a throbbing cheek. Her mind whirled in shock – _Aurora had struck her._

 

Her feet took her quickly towards the short blonde, grasping her firmly around the shoulders. **“ _No,”_** came the severe command from Maleficent’s lips just before they met Aurora’s in a blistering kiss. Their lips warred for dominance, teeth snapping to pull and bite.

 

Pulling back for air, Aurora shrugged out of Maleficent’s grasp and pushed harshly against her shoulders.

 

At the sudden refusal, Maleficent snarled. The sound banked the fire in Aurora’s chest to a blaze. Emboldened, she pushed at her mate again. ‘ _Yes, be angry with me,’_ she thought silently.

 

Maleficent’s figure swooped upon her then, knocking them both to the floor. Hands held Aurora’s down roughly. **_“_** I said ** _no,”_** she growled.

 

“I say **_yes_**!” Aurora hissed back, knocking the side of her mate’s head with the edge of her long wing.

 

"Have it your way then," Maleficent said heatedly. One hand lifted from clutching Aurora's to rip down the front of her dress, exposing her chest. She waited for a response, eyes glittering darkly like green jewels in the firelight. Aurora's hands jerked upwards into her hair, fingers twisting deeply into the tresses before tugging Maleficent's face harshly against her own. Their mouths met once more, and Aurora bit down on the bottom lip she'd sucked in hard enough to draw blood. A grunt of pain sounded, and the faery above her drew back to look upon her indignantly.

 

Maleficent’s hands moved quickly then, divesting Aurora of her night gown with quick tugs, not stopping when it tore. Leaning forward, she took a dusky pink nipple between her teeth and tugged as Aurora had done to her scalp. The petite faery writhed beneath her then, and she raked her fingernails down the soft skin of Aurora’s chest and sides, pleased with the red scratches left behind.

 

Aurora gasped, and bucked her hips. Pushing upwards with all of her strength, she rolled Maleficent over and straddled her waist. Her hands scrambled to unwrap the robes from her lover, pulling in haste.

 

A dark chuckle escaped Maleficent’s lips then, and she sat up while pulling Aurora by the waist. Pushing to kneel then, she swooped her arm underneath the Queen’s knees and stood, bringing the naked woman up bridal-style. She deposited her on their bed, and Aurora gave a squeal of surprise at the quickness of the movements. Quickly shrugging out of her robe, she let it slide to her feet and leapt fluidly atop Aurora, nestling herself between her lily-white legs. She let her full weight meet the squirming blonde. Leaning down, she captured Aurora’s lips once more, while one hand snaked down a sweat-glistened belly to find silken folds wetter and hotter than ever before.

 

Aurora couldn’t stop the deep moan that came forth when fingers swiftly entered her, and her hands clenched against her lover’s waist. Feeling adrift in a losing battle, her fingernails dug deeply into the tender flesh just above sharp hipbones. Maleficent yelped and hissed against her lips. Empowered by the reaction, one of Aurora’s hands came up to knead a soft breast briskly, pinching and tugging at the firming nipple.

 

Long fingers wrapped firmly around Aurora’s wrist then, dragging her arm quickly above her head and holding it fast to the pillows. The fingers that worked her below had increased in depth and strength, and Aurora’s eyes rolled back with each thrust, her cries punctuating the air. She was aware of dampness against her leg, and heard cussing words whistle through Maleficent’s teeth as she ground against her.

 

At long last, stars burst behind Aurora’s eyelids, her stomach clenching as she climaxed with a shout. She looked up to Maleficent’s face, relishing the view of her head thrown back in a silent scream as she too found her release.

 

The swan like neck gulped in great swaths of air as it curled back down, and Maleficent leaned forward to rest her forehead against Aurora’s. Bringing her larger wings around them in a crushing embrace, she shuddered as the Queen’s pants of breath cooled her overheated cheeks.

 

“I am sorry, Aurora. I don’t know what came over me,” she whispered.

 

“Don’t ever be sorry for _that_.” Aurora smiled, the inferno that once resided in her chest dying down in the end. “I am sorry that I hit you.” She kissed the reddened cheek tenderly, attempting to erase the offense.

 

“Let us not remind me of that particular moment of the evening, please.” Maleficent’s eyes were guarded once more.   Slipping off of Aurora, she drew a throw over her naked flesh in an attempt to conceal her shame and hurt.

 

“Darling, I...” Aurora began, reaching out for Maleficent’s retreating form. “I shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn’t have done what you did, either,” she ended defensively.

 

Maleficent bristled her wings at that, face impassive but eyes taut with hurt. “Oh, I see. I ought not protect my mate and children? All I said to her was that we knew about Luna and that she had lost in her attempt to have my own child murder me. Quite simply, I was polite.”

 

“Nobody needs to die over this, Malle! I’ve had enough bloodshed for one lifetime. Besides, your version of diplomatic politeness is acerbic at best!” Aurora bit back.

 

A hasty shrug of a wing over her face and body was Maleficent’s reply. She turned inwards, feeling quite affronted at Aurora’s assessment of her protective capabilities. She _would_ die to protect her family. Why couldn’t Aurora understand that? In the war with the humans, her father’s dying breaths had been over the injured body of her mother as he sought to protect her from the onslaught of iron swords and spikes. It was the way of faeries – one was driven mad with grief at the loss of a mate. It was best to die fighting.

 

Aurora huffed “Be that way, then.” Climbing underneath the blankets, she turned her back to the maddening display of stubbornness. She’d tried so many times to understand Maleficent’s mercurial moods, but she couldn’t puzzle them out unless she forced the faery to speak her mind. She was too tired for it now, in body and spirit.  

 

But then, this must have been what Mabh had intended by replying directly to Aurora, going over Maleficent’s head in an attempt to make her appear weak. She wanted to drive a wedge between them, and she was readily succeeding. Wiggling in soreness from their altercation and going over the situation in her head over and over, she didn’t fall asleep until she was sure she heard wispy snores coming from underneath the great brown wings.

 

* * *

 

Luna dreamt of pleasant things as she slept next to Isobel – picnics with her family, and the lovely foods that she’d tried for the first time ever in the past days. Sweet things that her Mother slipped to her when she thought Queen Aurora wasn’t looking that tasted of _chocolate_ and honey. Chocolate was new, and her lips quirked up into a smile at the memory of the creamy taste.

 

Her smile drifted down into a frown as she felt weight upon her, and her dreams struggled to keep up with what her body felt. Happy scenes blurred into reminiscing her time locked away in a room, alone with naught but her own sadness. She struggled against those thoughts and slowly came awake, hands pushing against the flesh unmoving over her chest.

 

Luna’s eyes snapped open, now aware that Sola sat atop her, eyes wide and somewhat disturbed.

 

“They’re fighting, and it’s all your fault,” she whispered scathingly.

 

“W-what are you going on about like a crazy loon?” Luna responded, trying to sit up but failing. She didn’t want to push Sola off of her, lest the girl think she was trying to start yet another fight. Her eyes drifted to the slumbering form of Isobel, still fast asleep next to them, but they came back when Sola spoke again.

 

“Last night... I went to say goodnight, and I heard Mama slap Mother. Then, they yelled a lot, and I ran away. Mama’s never hit Mother before. It’s because of you, they were fighting about you. I am sure of it.” The redhead’s green eyes narrowed in malice, and Luna found herself shrinking deeper into her pillows.

 

“How do you know? What, did they say my name?” she retorted.

 

“Noooooo, but Mama did mention Queen Mabh.” Sola sounded victorious in her assessment.

 

“Well that’s hardly my fault, is it? Would ‘ye git off me already?” Luna began to softly push at the leather-clad thighs that seemed so very heavy.

 

Sola’s reponse was laden with contempt. “It’s _all_ your fault, you twit.”

 

“Is not!”

 

“Is too!”

 

Beside them, Isobel began to stir. “What is going on now?” she huffed, rubbing at her eyes.

 

“Nothing, Bel. Our sweet sister is all sixes and sevens[2]. Go back to sleep, sweetheart.” Luna soothed, brushing Isobel’s cheek with the back of her hand fondly.

 

Sola’s hand snatched forward to grab Luna’s from Bel’s face. “Don’t touch her! You ruin everything you touch!” Isobel yelped at the rough gesture.

 

Luna stared at Sola scornfully. “Don’t hurt my sister with your dislike for me.” Wide awake now, Isobel’s eyes went back and forth between the two in worry.

 

“I didn’t hurt her, you bleedin’ idgit. And she’s _my_ sister! And...and...I don’t dislike you. I hate you!” Sola sputtered. She fisted Luna’s nightgown, hands still sore even though Isobel had healed them from the iron burns four days prior. The ache in her hands made her angrier, and she pulled back and punched Luna squarely in the mouth.

 

“Agh!” Luna howled, blood gushing from her split lip.

 

Sola whooped in delight and snickered. “Oh look, you really _are_ bleedin’ now! How d’you like it, huh?”

 

Luna had enough. She knocked Sola backwards off of the bed and hopped down on top of her, slapping at the girl’s raised hands and face. Willing herself not to use magick, she began to realize the pleasure of smacking someone physically. It was... exhilarating.

 

“Stop! Stop it, you two!” Isobel yelled, pulling Luna off of Sola.

 

As her opponent was subdued, Sola popped up. Fuming, she went after the now docile girl enveloped in Isobel’s arms. She grabbed the long, mahogany hair and yanked, tackling Luna again. Isobel went down with them, squalling.

 

It was a mess of tangled limbs, hair and wings. Fists pummeled and hands whacked any body part accessible as the three girls shouted.

 

The ruckus had reached such proportions that the guards had gone to fetch Maleficent, so afraid of breaking the teens apart themselves that they’d entered the Queens’ bedchamber unbidden.   At the sound of the door slamming open, the tall faery unfurled her gigantic wings and leapt from bed nude as the day she was born. The men’s faces reddened. She stood before them, her face a picture of annoyance.

 

“Well, what is it?” she sniped.

 

“Y-your Majesty...” the head guard stammered. “Perhaps, uhh. Your state is that of undress, madam.”

 

“Damn it all!” Maleficent screeched as she looked down. She quickly threw on a bed-robe around her and glared. The men had the good sense to look anywhere but in her eyes. She snapped her fingers to bring back their attention. “You were saying?”

 

“The Princesses... Your Majesty,” the guard began again. A shout echoed the hallway, and Isobel’s piercing screams reached her ears.

 

Not waiting further, she swept down the long hallway as fast as her feet would take her. Entering Isobel and Luna’s bedchamber, the sight that greeted her was equally heartbreaking and comical. On the floor Sola and Luna brawled while sitting upright. Isobel was crushed between their torsos on her belly, trying in vain to crawl away. “Mother, Mother! Help!” she cried, red faced and blubbering. Both Luna’s and Sola’s faces were bloodied messes.

 

Her nostrils flared and eyes hardened to granite. Summoning her deepest strength, she roared her displeasure. “Sola Rose! Luna Aibhlinn! _What_ in the name of all that is holy are you _doing_?”

 

Realizing her presence, Sola and Luna stopped their attacks and turned bruised, horror-stricken faces towards the towering faery. Isobel finally wriggled from between them and crawled to her mother, hiding herself underneath the hem of the robe. She clutched at Maleficent’s bare legs in an attempt to keep her mother from advancing further.

 

Bel sobbed bitterly, and Maleficent resisted the distinct urge to shake her malcontent daughter off of her legs. Instead, she clenched her jaw and suffered the infantile behavior so that she could focus on the two obvious instigators. Magick furled around her hands and she showed them very clearly. “Up. NOW.”

 

Aurora rushed into the room, and took in the scene. Holding hands up in appeasement to Maleficent, she crept sideways towards the girls scrambling to stand. “Tsk. Oh, girls... What happened?”

 

As they each took a breath in to respond against the other, Maleficent interrupted. “I don’t _care_ what happened. They ought to know better than this, Aurora.” Her magick still circled dangerously around her palms, ready to strike.

 

“Well... two wrongs doesn’t make it right, does it?” Aurora peered knowingly at Maleficent.

 

In response, Maleficent’s hands dropped slowly to her sides. The magick faded, but her expression was caustic.

 

Looking at Sola and Luna again, Aurora purposefully ignored Maleficent’s stare. “Girls, I think you ought to go clean up... in separate rooms.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.” Luna responded obediently, and exited the room quickly. Sola groaned, but hung her head at the sight of Maleficent’s face. She walked out of the chamber, grumbling as she headed the opposite direction of Luna.

 

Underneath Maleficent’s skirts, Isobel rocked back and forth slightly while smiling and whispering, “Thank you Mama...thank you Mama.”

 

 

 

 

[1] They say in marriage: What's mine is mine, and what's yours is mine.

Your mate's folly will be your own.

A chain is no stronger than its weakest link, and life is after all a chain.

You will be the chain to choke her.

My condolences.

[2] ‘All sixes and sevens’ – confused.


	21. Cathanna Folaitheach (Clandestine Battles)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I’m currently working on both Malora Week prompts and this story, so please forgive me if there’s a bit more time between chapters these upcoming days. If you’re itchin’ to read my writing, pop over to my Stories list either here, on FF.net, or Tumblr and say hi! 
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:  
> Seven Devils, Florence + the Machine  
> Never-ending Story, Within Temptation

Isobel couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to, but so many things plagued her mind. Mother had been so distant towards her since she’d come home from the Unseelie Court of Queen Mabh, and though she explained that she’d tried to leave several times and had sent several letters, it had gotten her nowhere.

 

“Oh,” Maleficent would always say, nodding her head once. She’d turn her head quickly as if to hide tears, and then walk away. It grated on every one of Isobel’s nerves – she knew her mother, and this was the behavior she put forth when she was hurt so deeply she could barely look upon your face. She’d only ever seen it once, when Mama flirted a bit too much with a visiting ambassador from the Jade Kingdom that had brought her a necklace with giant green gemstones that glowed like Mother’s eyes.

 

Mama had put it on straightaway and wore it for a week without telling Mother that the reason she liked it so much was because of the color, and not the person who gave it to her. Mother’s looks and hidden tears had confused Isobel then, but they confused her no longer. While Mother had a lot to give, physical wealth was never one of them.   She didn’t own the Moors, she was the Protector. Besides, Mama was the Queen of the Moors, and even she would never exploit them for pretty things from the jewel pool or the trees that were hundreds if not thousands of years old.

 

So then, it was a little odd when Maleficent began presenting the queen with trinkets that she did own – squirreled away topaz pendants corded onto a finely braided chain that had belonged to her own mother, and blue agate beads that the water sprites had given her as a child. Mama accepted all of these gifts with a quirked, confused smile but she did not wear them straightaway. It made Mother ever so sad, and Mama finally had to squabble with her to get to the bottom of the problem. Isobel was only seven then, but she’d to known to climb into her Mother’s lap and sat silently until Maleficent had hugged her close. It was her way to be comforted – by comforting others.

 

When it came down to it, Mother was just bad at communicating with words. She communicated well with her hands, and her eyes. To study her face or listen to her words, you’d never know what she was trying to say until it was too late.

 

Isobel knew that her mother was saying: ‘I loathe the sight of you. I am disappointed in you. Please go away.’ So, Isobel went away. She spent a lot of time in her room since coming back to the castle, which she now shared with Luna. Luna, who looked so much like Mother, was now the only one who understood her. Just like Mother _had._ ‘If I am anything like Mother as the courtiers say I must be, then I am sure she will come around just as I have, Bel.’ Luna had reassured her.

 

They used to say that Isobel was like Mother. The thought brought unbidden tears to her eyes, and she pushed the heels of her hands against them angrily. Two mornings ago had been quite the debacle. Sola sported her two black eyes and bruised chin proudly, walking around the castle like some sort of Warrior Princess. The guards and gentry would clear a path for the fiery redhead, whispering “Watch oot fer her, she's pure mental, dressin’ as a boy and heftin’ a silver sword.”[1] By contrast, Luna would try to glamour her face until she gave up with a huff each morning, unable to erase the yellow bruises and slightly flattened nose completely.  

 

Mother had tapped that nose and wiggled her own at Luna the morning afterwards.   “It gives you character,” she’d laughed. She’d looked at Sola then, only to throw up her hands in mock surprise with a wide grin. She’d summarily ignored Isobel ever since she shook her off her legs like a wayward pet and told Mama to look after her. She hadn’t even looked back as she walked out of the room.

 

“No.” Luna mumbled under her breath and wriggled in her blanket behind her.

 

Isobel turned over and poked her sister’s shoulder. “Psst, Lulu. You awake?”

 

“No!” came the reply, but this time Luna smacked her hands foreward, face screwed up as if dreaming.

 

Tucking the errant hands underneath the blanket once more, Isobel chuckled. “Alright, Lu. Whatever you say.”

 

“NOOOOOOOO!” an ear-splitting shriek erupted from the sleeping girl, and she grabbed at her wings, pulling feathers out whole. “No, Mother! No!” Tears sprung from the closed eyes, and Luna sat up and rolled out of the bed just as Isobel reached for her.

 

“Luna...Luna! Aw, Gods.” As her sister continued to shriek, Isobel hauled her legs over the side of the bed and ran over to the other side of the bed. Luna was rolling on the floor, tearing at herself like some sort of mad person.

 

“It burns! Mother, no! Why?” she yelled, sobbing.

 

Isobel had to wake her from this nightmare soon before the Luna woke the entire castle. Just as she was about to reach her sister to shake her shoulders firmly, a chilling scream echoed down the hall that raised the hair on the back of Bel’s neck.   Mother!

 

Looking back down at her writhing sister, she held her breath and counted. One, two, scream! Echo! Mother and Luna were screaming together. The glow of torches came from the hallway, and men’s yelling. Her doorway slammed open, and the Queens’ guard poured through with Sola at the front. She was panting heavily.

 

Just as Sola opened her mouth to speak, another round of screams sounded. Sola looked warily at Luna but then quickly to Isobel. “Bel, you got ta’ get to Mother’s room. She’s gone right batty and Mama can’t even wake her. She’s poppin’ off spells everywhere! I can’t... I can’t stop her without hurtin’ her!”

 

Isobel looked down in desperation to where Luna lay thrashing about and whimpering. “I-I can’t just leave Luna here like this, Sola!”

 

Sola huffed at that, ill-tempered at having been woken for this mess. “ _Fine_. I’ll watch her. Just go!”

 

Hesitating momentarily, Isobel nodded. “Don’t hurt her, Sola,” she warned, racing out of her bedchamber door and down the hallway. Jogging was winding her, as she usually used her wings to go places outside of the castle.   The closer she got to her Mothers’ bedchamber, the more distressing the sounds became. Punctuated between Maleficent’s screams of terror, Isobel could make out the light bell-like sound of hexes being thrown. Some were hitting walls with thumps, and some were hitting Mama, who was yelping in pain in between yelling at Mother to calm down and wake up. One final push of her burning calves later, Bel stood breathless at the entrance to her Mothers’ room. “Mama, get under the bed!” she wheezed.

 

Aurora stared up from her futile exercise at holding Maleficent down on the floor, her cheeks swelling from being struck with hands, wing and spell. “Oh, thank God. Isobel, help me hold her down!”  


“Mama...You’re hurt. Hide!” Bel begged.

 

“No!” came Aurora’s stubborn reply as her arms and wings trembled in the effort to hold the twisting figure beneath her still. “She’s too big for either one of us alone, Bel. Just do what you have to do, and do it quick.” Another shrill cry escaped Maleficent’s lips, and her wing came up to smack Aurora. Feathers were everywhere.

 

Isobel winced as she saw blood coming from a gash on her mama’s cheekbone. _Think. Think, what did Mother need?_ “Did you try singing to her like you usually do?”

 

“Y-Yes, of course I did,” came the shuddering retort. “Come on Bel, I can’t keep this up for much longer. Quickly!”  


 _A binding curse? Maybe._ “Ceangal mé tú ó dhochar. Ó a thabhairt pian do dhaoine eile  
agus ó thabhairt pian féin,”[2] Isobel chanted, her form glowing and swirling with gold and mauve.

 

Her mother’s arms bolted to her side, and her teeth clamped shut. Eyes snapped open to glare at Isobel, and she seethed under invisible bonds. Aurora shrugged off Maleficent quickly, stumbling backwards into a heap and weeping into her shaking hands. The screams still came, and Bel was afraid that her mother would break her teeth. “Mother...Mother... Can you see me?” the young girl cried, cupping the sharp cheekbone and looking into the eyes that seemed to stare back at her.

 

Maleficent’s breathing was coming so rapidly through her teeth that her spit had begun to foam, and the grimace of pain upon her face was so sharp that her lips had begun to crack. Isobel was beside herself. “Mother, I am here. Please, Mother – wake up.” ‘Could it be that simple?’ she wondered.

 

Cupping her hand underneath her chin as she’d seen Maleficent do countless times before when they were wee and refused to wake up for the day, she blew the curse. _Awake now,_ it sang.

 

Finally, Maleficent’s body relaxed upon itself and the shouting stopped. Isobel could hear silence from the hallway as well, and hoped that whatever had gripped her mother had released Luna as well. Beneath her, greatly tormented sobs came from Maleficent.

 

“Bel, Bel forgive me. Where is your Mama?” she looked wild, and rolled over to grasp at Aurora’s skirts. Aurora winced at her closeness, and Maleficent reeled back as if she’d been slapped. “Oh, my sweetling. Forgive me,” the great faery cried out, pounding at her chest with her fist as if trying to restart her heart. Either that, or stab it.

 

“Mother, stop.” Isobel said gently, grasping the fist and pulling it away. “We know it wasn’t your fault. Luna was suffering the same fits.”

 

Maleficent’s eyes grew wide at that, and she whispered painfully, “Luna was in my dreams. She was me, and I was... I had removed her wings.” She moaned in anguish, rubbing her palms over her tear-stained face.

 

“You would never do such a sin!” Isobel hissed, hugging her mother close.

 

“I know, I know! It began as my usual... dreams do. But then, Luna came and then she was me. It’s all so confusing. I couldn’t wake up.” came the muffled response. In her embrace, Isobel could feel her mother’s trembling body refusing to relax, her wings riotous and twitching.

 

Aurora cleared her throat and reached around them both, taking deep breaths. “Well, it’s obvious that someone is trying to torture you with these dreams. They know how to reach Luna, and by proxy you. I don’t think we need to ponder long on who it could be.” She reached forward and put a loving hand on Isobel’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go back to your room and check on Luna? We’ll see you for breakfast in a few hours. Come to us if you need anything until then, hmm?”

 

It was a mild suggestion, but the beseeching look in her Mama’s eyes betrayed her intentions. Isobel knew that if she didn’t leave the bedchamber now, that Mama wouldn’t be able to comfort Mother in her own way. As very young girls, they’d witnessed some of the hushing gestures and snuggling, even some singing. But, those were very sacred moments to the two Queens. They were intensely private people, and Isobel respected her mothers even more for their special bond as she grew older and wiser.

 

“Of course, Mama. We’ll see you in the morning.” Isobel murmured, and left the regal woman to comfort the quivering mess that was her Mother. It was so disconcerting to see Maleficent in such a state; it terrified Bel to her very core.

 

* * *

 

 

Around the breakfast table, the motley crew minus Sola sat. You might have heard a pin drop for the lack of conversation. Wooden forks scraped at trays and trenchers now and again as someone took a bite of food, but they mostly stared at one another. Aurora and Maleficent shared knowing looks of silent conversation and comforting, while Luna frowned in hurt from Maleficent to the table, and back again. Whenever she would do that, her mother would reach a palm underneath the table and rest it gently on Luna’s knee, which the girl would shrug off while sniffling.

 

Isobel watched all three quietly. Catching her mother’s eye, she tried to smile. Maleficent pursed her lips slightly, and then shook her head, looking away. Bel’s smile fell, and she looked once again at her very interesting plateful of scones and berries. Needing something to lighten the air, she spoke to herself. “An egg, an egg. My kingdom for an egg.”

 

Maleficent bristled at that. “Do you often eat the young of humans, too?” she reprimanded.

 

“The humans eat eggs and meats in the main hall.” Isobel countered.

 

“They are humans, you are a faery!” Maleficent snapped.

 

Narrowing her eyes, Bel fixed her mother with a stare. “I know faeries that eat eggs...” Maleficent gasped at her daughter’s boldness.

 

Not stopping there, Isobel continued, “They eat baby deer, too. Sometimes they’ll catch the baby and the mother together with bow and arrow and wham! Stew!”  


A fork broke in Maleficent’s fist. In a deadly calm voice, she inquired. “Queen Mabh’s faeries, I assume?”

Aurora interrupted, her hands raised. “Maleficent, bite your tongue. Isobel, enough of your insolence. I don’t want to hear that name at this table.”

 

“Well, it just seems to be such a double standard, Mama. Mother wears leather.” Isobel smirked. Her ego was smarting from Maleficent’s ignorance of her presence. Just hours prior, she’d saved the faery from a true living nightmare, and was impatient for affection and attention. Luna looked ashamed and wide eyed at her sister’s behavior, and kicked at Isobel under the table.

 

“My leather is from animals that have died by natural causes or those that are too injured to go on,” Maleficent seethed through clenched teeth at her impudent daughter.

 

“Enough!” Aurora exclaimed, her hand slamming palm down onto the table, rattling the cutlery and food.

 

One to always make an ill-timed entrance, Sola strode into the room and plopped into her chair. “Mornin’, everyone,” she mumbled as she began to shovel food into her mouth with hands. Finally noticing that no one else was eating, she looked up and swallowed. “What’s everyone so quiet for? You all act like nobody’s ever had a bad dream before. Are we gonnae let that witch Mabh scare us like that? Nah. Bel got it all under control, right?”

 

Luna glared in open hostility before standing up and curtseying to her mothers before vacating the room.

 

“I wanted an egg,” Isobel grinned.

 

Sola smiled back at her sister. “Aye, eggs are tasty.” At noticing Maleficent’s sudden scowl, she backed down. “I mean... eggs are awful, Bel. Nasty bowfin’ gross, eggs are.” She stuffed a scone halfway into her mouth and chewed loudly.

 

Aurora blanched and reached upwards slightly as if she wished to pick the offending bit of hanging food from Sola’s mouth, but didn’t. “Honestly, Sola Rose. We raised you better than to eat like that. And what are you wearing? Black leathers now?”

 

“Aww, Mama... Mother used to,” she paused and swallowed politely. “Mother never liked forks, either.”  


“But I do, _when your Mama is at the dining table_.” Maleficent warned. Smirking, she leaned to the side to admire the black leather leggings that Sola wore underneath a loose knee length tunic of gold spun thread, which she’d tied cordage around in a figure 8 fashion, foregoing her stays.   “You look like you’re headed to battle, Sola. The length of your dress is indecent,” she snorted playfully.

 

“They’re your leggings, Mother. I hope you don’t mind, I’ve cuffed them a bit under my boots,” Sola grinned back.

 

“Yes, well. I always wore them under a gown or a robe, dear one.” Maleficent answered back, raising an eyebrow. Her shoulders shook slightly with barely contained mirth.

 

Aurora was not finding it quite so humorous. Sitting up primly, she steadied herself into a regal pose. “Sola, a princess is a lady. She does not wear gentlemen’s tunics. Nor does she cut her hair to the lengths you have. Just the other day I heard some of the boys calling you names, and I had to chastise them even though I don’t even know what a _díog_ is!” she cried, slightly exasperated.

 

Maleficent sputtered and began to guffaw. Isobel’s eyes widened, and she giggled behind her cupped hand. Sola groaned and rested her forehead in her hands.

 

“A díog, they say? How intriguing,” Maleficent chortled, unable to control herself any longer. “Which boys were these? I’ll show them what’s done to underlings who call Sola a...” Snorts came from the great faery’s nose as she tried to control her laughter.

 

“Maleficent, this is not a laughing matter! I already punished them. Whatever does the insult mean, anyway?” Aurora questioned.

 

“I think the young gentlemen were trying to imply that Sola find herself a young faery maiden to court rather than a young faery lad.” Isobel smiled good naturedly at her Mama.

 

“Augh, I hate them both – girls and boys! They’re all numpties.”[3] Sola stammered, frowning.

 

“Quite right,” Maleficent agreed.

 

Aurora was not entirely convinced. “Sola, honey – don’t you find anyone attractive?”

 

“Oh, Mama!” Sola wailed, jumping up from the table and making her hasty retreat.   Aurora hopped up after her, calling at her about dresses that she could borrow or hair pieces she might find pretty.

 

“Will Mama ever give it up?” Isobel wondered aloud.

 

With a great sigh, her Mother finally regarded her and gifted a small smile. “I hope not, Bel. I’d hate to have to set your sister out to pasture to eat with the other animals. Besides, you’re young; faeries don’t often court until later in life.” Turning suddenly quiet, Maleficent slid her hand across the table to caress Isobel’s and whispered, “Don’t try grow up too soon, Isobel. The world of men is cruel, and the heart easily broken. Besides, your Mama and I have enough to worry about at the moment without having to beat boys and girls alike off of you three with a stick.”

 

 

[1] Pure mental – Deeply insane.

[2] I bind you from harm;

From bringing pain to others,

and from bringing pain to yourself.

[3] Numpty – a numbskull, idiot.


	22. Servatis a periculum; Servatis a maleficum (Save us from danger; Save us from evil)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> Whisper, Evanescence  
> The Chase, Tori Amos

 

* * *

 

Maleficent awoke with a jolt to the early morning light. It was well past dawn, and she hurriedly stretched her wings and shuffled towards the windows of the bedchamber. Viewing the sun’s position in the sky, she could guess it was around 10 o’clock in the morning – very late for her to be sleeping. With a shrug and an arch of her back, she winced at the twinges of muscles that were still strained from last week’s nightmares.   No wonder she was tired; she’d not slept well ever since.

 

“’Rora?” she called wearily, turning around to search the room with her eyes. No answer came. The fire was long dead, having burned to coals and then out. The air was chilly. How strange – Aurora always made sure the fire was banked by a handmaid during the day. Had she forgotten to ask one?

 

Slipping on a bed-robe over her simple silk shift, Maleficent opened the door to the hallway and peeked her head out. “Aurora?” she whispered, her heart clutching in fear unbidden. It was such a strange feeling, Maleficent shook herself.

 

Her Queen wasn’t out here, either. Dipping back inside, she crossed the room quickly to the wardrobe. It was growing much colder outside, the first snows blanketing the highlands with a sparkling white blanket. Fisting at fabrics, Maleficent sought a warmer, heavier weight robe.

 

Finding a black wool one with a high neck and shimmering embroidery, she quickly divested of the bed-robe and dressed with a smile. Her favorite little human seamstress had made this for her years ago; it was one of the first she’d stood for while the wee girl measured the holes needed for the back of her gowns. She’d teased her incessantly that day, making noises as if she was being poked with pins.

 

The lass had grown into a bonny young woman and married one of the fellows from the stables. Her wings bristled – memories like these made her feel old, and she began to cry. Why was she so melancholy?

 

Sitting down to the dressing table, Maleficent took a good look in the mirror. Though she was nearing sixty soon, her face didn’t look over a human’s mid-twenties. Her hair was another story. She’d never been able to rid herself of the stubborn streak of grayish white that insisted on growing like a weed, no matter how she hid it, glamoured it, or threatened it. It flopped over her eyebrow as if to mock her.   “Well then, you wish to be out and about today, do you?” the faery spoke to herself, amused that her hair was just as obstinate as she.

 

“Mother, are you... talking to yourself?” Isobel worried, her lips quirked in question as she leaned over a shoulder and their eyes met in the mirror.

 

Maleficent was startled; she hadn’t heard Isobel enter the chambers. Spinning quickly with a gasp, she quickly masked her surprise into a look of indifference. “Of course not, Bel. I’m talking to my hair,” came the serious reply. She wiped semi-dried tears quickly from her eyes and sniffed elegantly.

 

“Ooooookaaaaaay, then.” Isobel raised an eyebrow and wheedled back and forth from toe to heel. “I was looking for Mama, but I can see she’s not here. You know, Mother... I could fix that hair for you.”

 

“No, don’t bother. I’m considering naming it to honor it’s sheer nerve for growing over and over.” Maleficent answered, twisting the white hair around a willowy finger.

 

Isobel looked queerly at the older faery, then. “Mother, are you feeling quite alright?”

 

Instead of answering directly, Maleficent merely sighed. “Bel, has anyone ever told you that you’re much too solemn for a 13 year old lass?”

 

“No, but you just did.” Bel blinked, the joke flying straight over her head. “I just fret about you is all, Mother. You are acting awful strange like.”

 

Maleficent shook her head slightly as she rolled her long hair into a coil and began to wrap it around her horns. “Tsk, Bel... I’m just over tired. I’ve overslept this morning and woke confused without Aur... Your Mama by my side. It never begins my day well to wake to a cold bed in a cold room. Our tree in the Moors would be warmer than this.”

 

Suddenly, Isobel’s face was worried. “M-Mother, the fire’s burning. It’s very warm in here. See? And, the Moors are freezing right now.” She moved aside and pointed to the fireplace, which was indeed stacked with logs and kindling, a fire merrily crackling.

 

Allowing her hair to fall, Maleficent hissed and stood. Rushing towards the fire, she moved the logs around with a bronze fire pick. “It was cold a moment ago, Isobel! Did you light this?”

 

Without responding, Isobel crossed the room and took the poker from Maleficent’s hand, replacing it back with the shovel and bellows. Holding her mother’s cold hands firmly, she leaned up to peer into the teal and hazel eyes, trying not startle her further. “I think you ought to be abed, Mother. You’re all confused, and you’re very tired,” she concluded softly.

 

Maleficent began to immediately protest. “But...I just awoke! It has to be nearing half past ten in the morning!”

 

“I will go and fetch Mama,” Isobel interrupted, leading her mother back towards the bed. If she could just get her in it and tuck her under the covers, she might win. Maleficent sat on the edge of the bed, wide eyed.   Bel cupped her mother’s cheek and looked into the slightly wild eyes. She didn’t tell Maleficent that it was actually nearing the noon hour.

 

“Come now Mother, down we go,” she pushed at a shoulder and tried to smile. “You’ll feel better once Mama comes to nap with you.”

 

“Is she tired, too?” Maleficent worried aloud, distracted into climbing back under the duvet and furs.

 

“Very tired, just like you. I think you two are stressed.” Isobel confirmed. “Shall I help you sleep?”

 

A pale hand waved, and a yawn sounded. “No, no. Go find your Mama.” Maleficent closed her eyes and turned her back to Isobel.   _Her mind felt so_ _foggy. Her heart felt so gloomy._

Creeping backwards as silently as she could, Isobel’s heart was racing. She and her sisters had been searching for their Mama all morning long, and now Mother was acting like she’d gone mad.   Shutting the bedchamber door tightly behind her, she resisted locking it from the outside in fear.

 

Only faeries that had lived too long acted that batty and absent minded. Was her mother ill? Very few things plagued faeries, and she didn’t know of any that caused delusions except old age. Maleficent was decidedly not old for a faery of her kind. Some of the Elders were nearing something over a thousand years on this Earth, though they’d never said a precise number.

 

As she walked along the portico corridor of the practice yards, she heard flint-tipped arrows hit their mark with a quick succession of slams. The sound of a sword whistling through the air was there, too. She’d found Luna and Sola.

Pausing at the window just before going outside, Isobel spied on her sisters. They weren’t fighting, but they weren’t communicating either. Luna had tried to pique Sola’s interest by showing her prized yew and silver bow to the war-minded girl, but a bow and arrow was much too refined to interest Sola. She was all rough edges and heady excitement, like a mare in spring. Old Robin used to say that their mother had been brash and impetuous as a youth, before... Well, just before.

 

Teenage boys and girls their age from the court stood along the corridor, whispering as they watched the display.   Light clapping would come when Luna would loose an arrow well, but little attention was given to Sola as she whacked at a straw and wood man hard enough to decapitate it. The redhead spit on the ground in frustration, and looked up. Catching Isobel’s eye, she gave a crooked smile. Boys laughed and girls tittered, gossips that they were.

 

Rolling her eyes at the small minded courtiers, Isobel exited the corridor and stepped outside. “So, you’ve beheaded poor Fergus, eh?” she joked.

 

“Aye, that I did.” Sola snorted, sheathing her sword. Nodding towards Luna, she admired a moment. “Lu’s pretty damned good with a bow. I think we’ll do well if Mabh brings a legion to our border.”

 

“Listen, Soso... Mother doesn’t feel well this morning, and I can’t find Mama,” Isobel interrupted.

 

Luna loosed another arrow. Without turning, she spoke to the two. “Oh yes, we’ll do just fine. You and me, Sola... against a batallion of hundreds-of-years old faeries trained with iron-edged blades.” She sounded resigned, but gave Sola a meaningful look.

 

Sola’s feathers ruffled. “Now see here, Luna – we’ve Mother’s magick, and Isobel’s too. Mama can command the men to fight with us. It wouldn’t be a slaughter. I’m good at magick, too. What are you gonna do? Run and switch sides as soon as you see the hag across the battlefield?”

 

Eyes too much like Mother’s for Isobel’s comfort whirled around then, narrowing in hurt. “You’re good at cursing your Mama to sleep, poor baby. You’ve never killed before.” There was a hard edge to Luna’s voice, and the girl shuddered before gathering her quiver over her shoulder and walking off.  

 

“Luna! Luna wait, I’m sorry!” Sola called cheerfully through cupped hands. She look anything _but_ sorry. Isobel poked her hard, and glared. “What?!” Sola grinned back.

 

Isobel shook her head in disappointment. “You’re cruel,” she said simply.

Sola’s smile fell at that, and she kicked at the dirt. “Aye, I’m an unkind beast, Bel.” A sniffle came from Sola then, and she walked into the castle to find Luna.

 

Throwing her hands up in frustration, Isobel could stand it no more. “Would someone please tell me where my Queen Mother is?”

 

A page leaned forward, nodding his head. “Princess...” he murmured.

 “Y-Yes? Do you know where Her Majesty Queen Aurora is?” Isobel asked frantically.

 

“Of course, Princess. She was seen entering the King’s sitting room this morning, and asked not to be disturbed,” the young lad replied.

 “Where in the world is the ‘King’s Sitting Room?’ We don’t have a King, if you’ll remember.” Isobel inquired, impatient and confused.

 

“You know, Princess,” the page continued. Lowering his voice, he leaned forward a bit. “The room above the throne room?”

 “But that’s locked! We’re all forbidden to enter it!” Isobel screeched.

 

“I know, I know!” the page stage whispered, trying to quiet and placate her with calming hand movements. “She was still dressed for bed. I thought perhaps she couldn’t sleep. ‘Twas early, before dawn.”

 Gritting her teeth, Isobel was resolute. “Take me there.”

 

* * *

 

 

Aurora sat in the dusty room, swinging her legs back and forth. Her slippered feet dragged across shards and pebbles of old broken glass, and the sound grated on her ears. Still, she smiled and looked around in wonder, like a child.

 

Sneezing, her lap shook with the motion. Jangling came from her skirts, and she laughed again.

 

The lock rattled on the door as someone tried to enter. “Can’t you see I’m having a conversation?” the Queen announced in a singsong voice.

 

Isobel burst in, with a sheepish looking pageboy. “Mama, what are you doing in here?” the young princess squealed.

 

“Ah, Isobel...” Aurora sighed, her face a picture of amusement.

 

“Yes, Mama. It’s me,” the blonde faery answered.

 

Aurora continued to rollick her feet back and forth against the glass, and chuckle. Isobel turned to the page. “Uhh, thank you. I’ll take it from here.” The boy nodded warily, exited the room and shut the door behind him.

 

Suddenly, the Queen sat up with a jingle. “Isobel, can you take me back to bed? I am so tired!”

 

Isobel paused at that, and drew back a bit. “Are you okay, Mama? I can take you to Mother. She was tired today, too.”

 

“Oh, yes! I’d heard that your Mother wasn’t feeling well this morning.” Aurora snickered and stood, taking Bel by the hand and swinging their arms. She didn’t look tired at all. In fact, her eyes were wide and wandering.

 

Something wasn’t right at all, Isobel thought. Perhaps her mothers had eaten something bad? Drank some weird potion Mother had fooled with? Got too drunk on honey mead? They were acting strange. She’d try to figure it out as she walked Mama back to her chambers.

 

Aurora chatted politely with everyone she passed, which was normal if not for the odd tenor her voice held. It was as if she was trying to be overly pleasant.   It made Isobel’s gut roil until by the time they had come to the Queens’ bedchamber, she felt very queasy. Why did she feel so ill?

 

“Here we are, Mama,” Isobel said quietly, palming her rioutous stomach as she opened the door.  

 

Aurora entered the room, sliding her hand into her skirts. “Oh, my poor darling. Are you not feeling well?” the Queen cooed as she looked upon a slumbering Maleficent.

 

Swiftly, Luna came from beneath a tapestry and knocked an arrow, drawing it at Aurora. Isobel screamed and ran forward.

 

Without removing her eye from the Queen, Luna begged, “No, Bel! That’s not your Mama.”

 

“What do you mean, I’m not her Mama?” Aurora questioned angrily, taking another step towards the bed. Another step towards Luna’s bow.

 

“Leave my family alone.” Luna growled, pulling the arrow back and pointing it Aurora’s leg. “Leave _now_. If you don’t, I’ll loose the arrow into her knee. It will hurt you just as much as it will her.”

 

Aurora hissed, pulling a chain from underneath her skirts.

 

“Mama!” Isobel hollered in fear, running towards the window and out of the range of the dark colored links.

 

“What better way to end it than with the weapon that began it, hmm? It’s such a good thing that I used to be human. I can touch this chain without a single pain.” Aurora laughed hollowly.

 

“You’re not Queen Aurora. Leave the body, I command it!” Luna yelled, her voice trembling for the tears that fell from her eyes.

 

Aurora moved a step closer, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, Aurora,” Luna whispered as she released the bowstring.

 

The flint tip struck the skirts just above the knee, and the arrow went deep. Aurora howled, grasping at her leg. Falling backwards, her head hit the stone floor hard, knocking her unconsious. Isobel yelped, kicking the iron chain from the Queen’s grasp as she lay still.

 

Sola popped out from another tapestry next to Isobel, and Bel shrieked again.

“Damn it, Luna! Why’d you have to go for the knee!” Sola cried.

 

“Well, I suppose you think the head or a wing would be better?” Luna hissed back.

 

Completely confused and very angry, Isobel came between them and crouched over her mama. “Would someone please tell me what is going on here before I go completely mad myself?”

 

Luna sighed, and nodded meaningfully at Sola, who groaned in response.

 

“I was up late sewing some leather armor a few nights ago, and I noticed Mama sleepwalking. I followed her, figuring she was stressed and would do it again. So, I stayed up. Each night, she’d get far as the Throne Room before I stopped her and brought her back to bed. Last night, I fell asleep in the hallway,” Sola explained rapidly.

 

“I knew Sola was up to no good,” Luna sneered. “I asked her what was going on, and she told me. When the page told you where your mama was, I knew what was going on. Mabh or one of her crones got to Queen Aurora’s mind. That’s what she meant when she wrote that your Mama would be the chain to choke Mother. That horrible king must have kept the iron chain right in the cage to keep Mother’s wings from breaking free all those years. Mabh must have suspected. The Elders know a lot of wing lore that we younglings don’t.”

 

“Would you please stop acting as if she isn’t your Mama, too?” Sola hollered.

 “That’s not the point right now!” Luna squabbled.

 

Beneath Isobel, Aurora began to stir with whimpers of pain. “Oh, Mama! Mama, are you alright?” Isobel cried, lifting the skirts to see the damage.

 

A rustling noise came from the bed, and then a growl. The three girls turned towards it, the hair raising on the backs of their necks and gooseflesh flushing down their arms.

 “What in the seven hells is going on here?” Maleficent shouted, rubbing her forehead as if she had an ache.

 

“Heyyyyyy, Mother’s back.” Sola cheered unenthusiastically. Luna rolled her eyes and smacked the back of Sola’s head with a wing.  

 


	23. An Morrigan Tagann (The Morrigan Cometh)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys and dolls. I'd like to warn those who are sensitive: This chapter contains some pretty graphic violence and briefly mentions attempted sexual violence. So, be forewarned. 
> 
> Still with me? Okay, here's the battle. 
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:  
> Heartlines, Florence + the Machine  
> Eyes on Fire, Blue Foundation  
> Breath of Life, Florence + the Machine

  


_‘Macha…’ **[1]** _ a breathy murmur wove its way through Sola’s mind as she grumbled. Rising up on an elbow, she punched a pillow and huffed. Her eyes were bleary, but she could see the rise and fall of two figures that lay next to her in bed in the dark. Isobel was on her back; great heaving snores erupting from her lady-like face of repose. It was such a contrast to the noises that Sola had to bite back a chuckle. Farther over the bed, Luna sat slightly propped up as if she’d woken up and fallen back to sleep while seated. _‘Macha…’_ she called, fidgeting her wings.

 

Sola rolled her eyes. She’d never get back to sleep with this noise. True, the girls had set up camp together in bed for each night of the past two weeks – but she liked to think of it as a security necessity rather than wanting to. She hated sharing a bed, but she felt... safer with her sisters nearby. Even Luna, the brat.

 

Heaving her legs over the side of the bed, Sola shook out her wings. It wouldn’t be too long before dawn. Reaching upwards to stretch, the lower half of her body met cold air as her short shift rode up. She shivered, pulling it back down over her bottom.   She crept over to Luna’s side of the bed and poked the girl’s shoulder. “Psst, Luna. Hey, Luuuuuuna.”

 

Luna snorted and came awake with a start. “W-What? Oh, it’s _you_ again,” she grumbled.

 

“Whit’do you mean, ‘me again?’” Sola snarked. “You woke me up with your rambling on about a long dead faery princess. ‘ _Macha, Macha!’”_ the redhead simpered in jest, batting her eyelashes.

 

“I wasn’t dreaming about her, you fool. I was chasing you around! You wouldn’t stop flying away from me!” Luna asserted.

 

“Flying away from you? I’ve been sleeping here, same as you. Michty me!” [2] Sola smirked. “Macha’s been dead for a thousand years at the least. Why were you callin’ out for her and chasing me? You’re strange, you are.”

 

Luna didn’t reply, but stuck her tongue out childishly. She sighed, “I don’t know, Sola. It’s not like I was exactly pleased to have you chasing ‘round my dreams all night. You weren’t exactly quiet, either.”

 

Sola scowled. “I don’t snore!” she insisted. “That’s Bel o’er there.”

 

“I didn’t say you were snorin’!” Luna glowered. “You were talking in your sleep, too. Why d’you think I was sitting up like this? You kept me up half the night with your mumbling.”

 

“Oh, and what did I say?” Sola asked cheekily.

 

“Muh muh muh.” Luna threw her hands up in annoyance. “I don’t know. Blathering on and such.”

 

Sola snorted. The morning began to dawn in the leaden windows behind her, setting the highlights in her red hair off like a halo of molten gold.  

 

Luna reached forward and tugged a piece of the hair, trying to convey the fondness that was growing in her heart for her sister without having the words. “You’re such a pretty lass. Why d’you cut it so?”

 

Smacking the hand away, Sola glared. “I may not want to beat your face in yet today Luna, but the day is young.” Her stomach growled hungrily. “Let’s wake Bel and go get some food before I chew on you instead.”

 

Hopping out of bed, Luna groused under her breath. “You’re so infuriatingly coarse.”

 

 

* * *

 

The three princesses arrived to their mothers’ chambers to breakfast with them, but found not Maleficent and Aurora, but scurrying servants with ashen faces.

 

“Whatever is going on?” Isobel inquired, pulling aside the young page from the day of her Luna and Mama’s “archery accident.” Her voice trembled in fear at all of the rushing activity around the room.

 

The boy stood, wringing his hands and looking at the girls. “I-I… I don’t rightly know, Princess Isobel. I know that your mothers left the sergeant at arms posted to escort you to the throne room once you’ve been dressed by the wardrobe.”

 

Human women came forward, their eyes springing with tears. The oldest of the women was the shortest – only 30 if a day, but Isobel knew she was Mother’s favorite.

 

“Hush now, Princess… You’ll find out what’s going on soon enough.” The matron snapped her fingers then, and the younger seamstresses began pulling garments from chifforobes and from piles on the beds. “Layer the Princesses’ skirts well, ladies. If there’s fire or debris attacks, they’ll want to kick the skirt off, especially if Queen Maleficent is distracted,” she explained matter-of-factly.

 

“Fire?” Sola yelped, turning away from a maid that was attempting to tack a skirt to her. “No. No skirts! I’ll dress me’self!” she wheedled, spinning just out of reach.

 

The head seamstress grabbed at a heavy woolen underskirt and eyed Sola with vexation. “And whit’re you going to do if your leathers are set aflame, Princess Sola? Fly around like a naked bat? Your Mother even wears dresses over her suede leggings. Bah!” She hopped spryly towards the wayward Princess, grabbing at Sola to bring her to heel.

 

Sola would not be caught, popping the matron lightly on the fabric clutched hand with her wing and dancing away. “What fire?” she insisted, her wings curling up and down in curiosity and the joy of evading capture.

 

Luna, who had been quietly staring out the window as ladies pinned her with layer upon layer of cottons and wools pointed outside and sobbed. “The highlands are ablaze, Sola. The Moors, even.”

 

Upon hearing that, Isobel ran to the window and shoved beside her sister. “No! No, not the Moors! Robin and Talise…and all of my friends!” Looking down the ramparts to the Queen’s Road, Isobel saw all manner of peasant and gentry trudging towards the castle – their battle crests and Houses on display. Silver and bronze armor gleamed in the daylight, horses neighing and calling in fright.

 

The sergeant-at-arms who had entered the room nodded solemnly at the display. “I suppose I should tell you now that you see, Princesses. They’ve come to defend the castle, the knights of their houses have. Thousands of peasant men, their babes and women snatched from their arms, are coming for aid. Most of the countryside farmers loyal to your Mothers are dead, I fear. It was a massacre in the wee hours near the border,” he cleared his throat. “We went out in the early morning, but the invaders refused to state their terms until a parchment was delivered to their Majesties. I think they mean to battle on open ground, and draw your Lady Mothers outside the castle.”

 

“Where is the attacking army?” Luna asked, her voice icy. She pulled a stiff leather jerkin from the pile on the bed, stuffed her wings through slashes at the back, and began to lace it tightly against her chest. It would leave her arms free to shoot bow, but protect her torso.

 

“They’ve gone back to the border of the Moors to await their Majesties’ reply, Princess,” he shivered then, but looked fondly at Luna. “You look just like your Lady Mother, Princess Luna. She was like an avenging angel in her younger years, always driving King Henry mad with rage at her pluck and tenacity.”

 

“You knew Mother when she was young?” Sola whispered, smacking a seamstress’ hand away from her while she tied an embroidered arming coat over her shiny black leather leggings.

 

“Oh aye, I knew her on the battlefield.” He winked and grinned, pulling lightly on his white goatee. “We were both young, then. She’d make a right mockery of us, blowing us down with her fearsome wings and clutching us into the skies. ‘Course, now I am an old man stuck in the castle ordering soldiers about and keeping those who reside here safe. Her Majesty is still preparing to do battle,” he gave a wizened chuckle and coughed a bit.

 

Isobel turned to be dressed. “I need to have my arms as free as possible, please. D’you have anything with heavy weight silk that’s got a train long enough to damper a hex blast when I fly?”

 

All of the seamstresses stopped and looked blankly at their Princess, but the Matron had a sly grin. Walking across the room to Maleficent’s shut chifforobe, she yanked the doors open and stuffed her head inside, mumbling and digging deep to the back hooks. Finally, she yanked herself back out, drawing a garment with her. “A-ha! Haha, yes… here it is.” She snapped the black garment out, and the girls sneezed from the dust motes that floated about.

 

“What in the world is that hideous thing?” Sola grimaced.

 

Luna stared at the dress with an open mouth. She’d seen that dress before, illustrated by one of the scribes in the Hall of Knowledge. She’d never seen it in person.

 

“Ye’ like to do hexes and curses, Princess Bel? Well, here be a cursin’ dress for ye’,” the matron grinned. “It’ll be your good luck dress. ‘Twas good luck for both your mothers, if I say so myself.”

 

“But that’s the dress Mother cursed Mama in!” Luna cried, her face awash with horror.

 

The older woman pursed her mouth a bit, as if tasting a thought. “Mmm, yes. Yes, and no. It’s the dress that cursed Maleficent into showing her finest mercy, too. D’you honestly think she rescinded her death sentence to Aurora because the King begged her not to? Pshah. One look at that baby, and the roots of love had taken hold.”

 

Luna shook her head, confused. “How?”

 

The seamstress grinned impishly. “Me mam told me – yer’ Mother first gifted Queen Aurora. She repeated Knotgrass and Thistlewit’s gifts of grace and beauty, sure. But then, she looked at your Mama and said that she would be beloved by all who met her. Your Mama loved her at first sight, too. She giggled and smiled at Queen Maleficent that horrible day, apparently.”

 

Sola looked ill. “I beg your pardon, but are you tryin’ to tell me that Mother and Mama were fated to be together ever since Mama was a baby? That’s positively disgusting.”

 

Throwing up her hands, the woman groaned. “You’ll understand when you’re older and fall in love. It weren’t like that straightaway. There are many kinds of love, Princess. Unconditional love, family-like love… Romantic love. There’s ne’er been a truer love than your Mother’s for Queen Aurora. She has all three in spades.”

 

“It’s still nasty bowfin, I say. All love is.” Sola remarked, crossing her arms stubbornly.

 

“Would you shut up with your bitter self?” Luna sniped haughtily at Sola. “’Tis romantic, and I needed something to distract me from the woe outside.”

 

Isobel had stayed silent while the handmaidens laced her into the surprisingly heavy dress with leather edging. Once they stepped away, their eyes wide, she knew she was ready. “So, how do I look?”

 

The head seamstress smiled with a gleam in her eye. With Isobel’s wheat colored hair and pale skin, the dress looked even far more nefarious. “As black as the earl of Hell's waistcoat, love. You’ll frighten them right good. Just let me tack it up the inside of the front for your height.”

 

Nodding numbly, Isobel stood still for the woman sewing the temporary stitches into the seams.

 

The sergeant-at-arms nodded at her. “If’n you’re the best at hexes and curses, Princess… which I don’t doubt you surely are; if yer’ half as dangerous as Queen Maleficent in that dress, then I daresay you’ll do just fine.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Maleficent stood at the top of the throne dais with Aurora seated, unable to leg go of her mate’s arm for need of feeling secure at the moment. She was trying so very hard not to slip into despair that made a nest in her heart; she knew if she did, that the very darkness that resided there would consume her whole. She never wanted to go to that place again, but if today required her to, she would need to meet that day with Aurora by her side to pull her back out of it.

 

All manner and sort of citizens were in the throne room, spilling over into the great hall, kitchens, and inner bailey.   Wounded men moaned, and lamented the loss of their wives and children to the “Witch Queen,” who had brought the Princes of Darkness with her. Legend told of Mabh’s covetous heart – as a human Queen Maeve, she’d attempted to steal a prized bull from a rival King. She’d faced the Morrigan that day, and cut one of the Tuatha faery Goddesses down in her hatred and sinfulness. She’d stolen the wings, eventually becoming Queen of the Seelie Court. But, her faery consort cast her from the court within a few decades, banishing her to the Unseelie for her wicked ways that she could never quite put down.  

 

Maleficent doubted Mabh had ever been really human, because she wasn’t entirely aware of how one could steal a faery’s wings and plaster them onto a human’s back. Legends and time twisted the truth like a faery’s tongue. The truth was that Princess Nemain and Annan of the Morrígna [3] had died that day, and most of the Tuatha Dé royalty. The third sister, Macha, had perished not but a few hundred years later. She suspected that Mabh had made an unholy alliance with the Fomorians to usurp the Faery crown that thousand or so years before Maleficent’s own birth.  

 

How could she defend from such an enemy with humans for soldiers? She’d meant to insult the dark faery Queen, true. She’d hoped to have more time before this day would come. Of course, the one sticking point was Mabh’s covetous heart.

 

She wanted Luna.

 

Talons sharpened for battle, she ripped the parchment containing that request sent from the invading legion of faeries apart with grunts of rage. Tinneas wanted his consort back, and Mabh promised not to kill any further if Luna was returned to them. Never mind that they had wiped out or enslaved nearly half of the highlands population in the process of a few hours.

 

Maleficent tried not to hiss in front of the humans that bawled on the stone floor, but they still looked like frightened cattle. She smiled reassuringly at them, but it only caused their eyes to grow wider. Closing her eyes against them, she thought the situation out again.

 

She had sent many messages to the Seelie Court with Diaval for support in this matter; only to hear back that this was a human issue that they didn’t wish to involve themselves in. Human issue, indeed – the rulers of this kingdom and heirs were one hundred percent Fae, and Queen Titania knew it.   She’d probably love to see Mabh wipe out the entirety of the human population for their centuries of sins against the Fair Folk, and count Maleficent, Aurora, and the girls as collateral damage.

 

If this were a game of chess, Maleficent was a pawn. Anger ate at her gut at that realization, and she growled. Aurora clasped her arm a little more firmly, rubbing a cool hand over hers.  

 

Unused to being frightened for so very long in Aurora’s stability and love, Maleficent’s mind went back to where fear and loathing had brought her thirty-six years before. She was more than enraged at the pillage, rape, and slaughter of her subjects – she was wrathful and feeling quite deadly.

 

As she gathered her wings tightly and sat down with Aurora, she fought to control the feelings coursing through her veins. Her nostrils flared, and she tried to breathe deeply.

 

“Dear heart, save it for the battle,” Aurora spoke softly, leaning near Maleficent’s ear. “Shh, shh. You’re going to frighten man and beast alike if you go on like that.”

 

“I cannot bear it, Aurora,” she seethed. “The insult and sin of being attacked physically by your own people… however evil Mabh is. It’s the most grievous of sins in our world. I shall do great evil to my own race today, in order to protect our subjects, our family and myself. It is not something I can abide without anger and great sadness. I must avenge our people, both Fae and human.”

 

Aurora hugged her close, not caring who saw the gesture. “I know. I am here, Maleficent.” The Queen’s words were quiet and simple, but they filled Maleficent’s heart with the will to fight, and live another day.

 

Maleficent took a shuddering breath and leaned her head against Aurora’s. “I am here, Aurora.”

 

Without warning, a peasant man stood and started yelling, “The Morrigan comes! The Morrigan will have her revenge on Mabh the deceiver!”

 

Maleficent startled, and opened her eyes. The poor man was bloodied, and out of his mind with grief. Her gaze followed his pointing finger, and she saw the other peasants, gentry, and farmers becoming agitated at his words. The mass of people stirred, and chanted with him. “The Morrigan comes,” they said in hushed tones, breaking a sea of bodies to allow entrance to the Throne Room to Sola, Luna, and Isobel.

 

Dressed for battle and weapons at ready, the girls looked confusedly at the men who chanted at them.   Luna looked vastly uncomfortable at the attention, but kept a regal tilt to her chin. Sola gave a puzzled but light smile to the people who cheered at their arrival. But Isobel held her head high, and eyes straight – meeting every gaze that dared to look at hers. Her hands crackled with energy, feeding off of the tension and excitement in the room.

 

Releasing a breath she did not realize she was holding, Maleficent stared down the receiving line to view the vision that was her daughter. Isobel had found her gown, and she wore it proudly. It was if the dark magick in the garment had swallowed the shy and delicate girl whole and birthed a woman.

 

Giving a wide, cool smile to those who fell at her feet, Isobel stepped towards the dais. “I hope you don’t mind, Mother,” she said confidently. “Do we battle today?”

 

“We do, daughter.” Waving a hand at Isobel, Maleficent trained her face into impassiveness, but her eyes gleamed proudly. “Well, speak to your people, oh dark one.” She chuckled gloomily, and continued. “They seem to think you have something important to say.”

 

Aurora nodded her assent, having certainty that while Isobel rarely spoke as a Princess royal, when she did it was vastly powerful and well thought out.

 

A song rose in Isobel’s heart as she turned around to view the roomful of bodies bowing in deference and awaiting her to say something.   Clearing her throat, she looked meaningfully at her sisters, and took their hands. “Soldiers, gentry, gentlemen and gentlewomen; servants, and farmers. Our people come under attack. Both man and Fae have perished already under this wicked woman and her advancing armies. If we allow her to win, every evil that there is in this world, every disease and every vengeance shall be our bitter seeds to sow and reap.”

 

Murmurs travelled through the great room, and heads began to nod at her. Isobel took a deep breath, and made her voice as strong and loud as she could. “If Queen Mabh and the Unseelie succeed, I shall not see the world that dear to me ever again. Imagine summer without flowers, livestock without milk, women without beauty, and men without valor. Every man will be a betrayer, and every child a killer. Sons will deceive their fathers, and daughters will deceive their mothers. Will you stand for it?”[4]

 

“No!” came the swift reply from the crowd. “Never!” some shouted.

 

Sensing the tide rising to their favor, Maleficent pulled Aurora to her feet and put a hand on Isobel’s shoulder. Aurora held her head high, and hugged her arms around Sola and Luna. “Will you stand with us?” Maleficent asked.

 

“Yes!” men and boys shouted. Weapons and farmer’s axes and pitchforks began to thump in rhythm against the wood tables and stone floor, and the women gentry and servants that had huddled together began to weep in happiness and relief that the kingdom might see another day.

* * *

 

Having arrived at the edge of the burnt and defeated Highland Moors, the teeming armies and conscripted men of the Queens Aurora and Maleficent viewed their opponents. Standing at least two hundred across and ten deep, two separate battalions of Unseelie faery warriors stood at the ready. Between them stood Queen Mabh, twin swords crossed at the ready over her back. Her sons and grandsons surrounded her, all with varying levels of contempt on their faces.

 

Still better at being astride a horse than flying for warfare, and her semi-healed knee still paining her, Aurora had ridden Diaval here. The raven had insisted that it was his duty to protect the Queen for Maleficent, and had accepted his role with pride. Upon halting a few hundred yards from Queen Mabh’s army, he shrieked a whinny of disdain and pawed at the ground with his taloned hooves. His feathered mane ruffled, and Aurora pet her hand soothingly across them. “Pretty bird,” she whispered.

 

The soldiers of her army had genuflected at seeing their Queen astride Diaval, praying that both the Christian God and the Celtic Gods and Goddesses had blessed the woman’s sovereignty for the day’s battle.

 

Aurora stared down Mabh as Maleficent, Sola, Luna and Isobel landed firmly beside her. “I have come to do war with you this day, Queen of the Unseelie. Terms?” she called loudly.

 

Mabh cackled a bit, and called back. “If you lose, you will all die. I doubt that you will win. Weapons?”

 

“All metals known to man and Fae, and magick. We are not afraid.” Aurora said confidently.

 

Ignoring the Queen astride Diaval, Mabh focused her eyes on Luna. She elbowed Tinneas next to her.

“Luna, come now!” the Unseelie Prince ordered sharply.

 

Beside Maleficent, Luna stiffened. She spread her wings out, fluffing them in a show of scorn. Her voice was like acid as she blazed eyes full of derision at Tinneas. “You mean to call me like a dog, Tinneas? I am a Princess of Dál Riata and daughter of the Protector of these Moors! _I do not_ _come.”_

 

Maleficent could not help the sideways grin she gave Luna, chuckling deeply. Soldiers and farmers alike began to laugh as well.

 

Enraged at the show of disrespect to their monarch, the Unseelie soldiers glowed green with malice. Mabh held up her arms and unsheathed her swords, crossing them in front of her and readying her wings for flight. “Begin!” she screamed.

 

Soldiers from each side rushed forward around their respective Queens to clash, armor and weapon colliding with a deafening clamor.   Trumpets blared to communicate between light and heavy cavalry with infantry on Aurora’s side, and the thunder of hooves pummeled the ground.

 

“Ready to ride?” Maleficent yelled to Aurora. Nodding her approval at the plan they’d come to together, Aurora grabbed at Diaval’s feathers even more tightly. “Into a dragon,” Maleficent murmured the spell, waving her glowing hands towards Aurora and Diaval as she took to the air.

Diaval sprung into the clouds, his great leathery wings expanding and blowing the airborne Unseelie faeries from the skies. He blew great swaths of fire to the enemy’s side, causing earsplitting screams to erupt from the faeries that smoldered, their wings ablaze.

 

Unfortunately for Aurora and Maleficent, who were busy fighting the Fae in the air, at least one third of the Unseelie on the ground had escaped Diaval’s inferno. One faery fell for every two men, and the Dál Riata battalions began to crumble. In the center rear of the most dedicated soldiers stood Luna, Sola, and Isobel.

 

Hearing the screams of the men that they were fading fast against the faery army, the three girls looked at each other and nodded. Hugging one another closely, they whispered their affections. Sola even kissed Luna on the forehead.   Spreading their wings to the chagrin of the men protecting them, they took to the air as well.

 

Luna flew to meet the Queens, loosing arrows in quick succession at the faery soldiers that clashed hexes with Maleficent and at Diaval. They began to drop like flies, and Maleficent whooped at her daughter as they flew fast as the wind to block any harm befalling Aurora.

 

Below, Isobel had moved nearer to the front of the line. Her outline was green and golden fire, and her eyes were alight with power. She grasped magickally at Mabh’s soldiers, thrusting the faeries to the ground and into one another, clenching her hands as she allowed her anger to root deeply. Choked sounds came from the winged soldier’s mouths as they found they could not breathe. She was near crazed, fluttering back and forth along the line of infantry to her front. Screeching her rage at seeing her beautiful Moors deadened and burnt, she lobbed hex after hex at the Unseelie line. The human men around her cheered her on, chanting once more.

 

Sola danced in the air above her, throwing her own curses and hexes across the lines, and deflecting those aimed at Isobel with her sword. To and fro she flipped and dodged, her jaw clenched in fury. She hollered with each rebound of the hexes she parried, fueling them further and deeper towards Mabh’s faeries.  

 

Tinneas fought fearlessly in the skies, and spied Sola. Viewing her skill with satisfaction, he surmised that taking her on would not be slaughtering a weakling. He decided that if he could distract her, his brothers might be able to destroy Isobel’s defenses. How best to distract them all? A sinister grin lit up his face, and he swooped closer to Maleficent and Aurora, dodging the magickal dragon familiar’s blazing breaths.

 

Arrows whirled around his ears and through his hair, but hundreds of years of warfare had made the faery Prince unafraid of the pain of arrows. He sought the woman loosing them, swooping in a feint from one of Maleficent’s injurious hexes in the air. Ducking below the dragon, he heard her screech of surprise. Coming up underneath the rear of the flying creature, Tinneas came face to face with Luna. He darted forward and grabbed her hair firmly, wrenching her towards him.

 

Luna fought his strength, screaming all the while, but she was no match. As Tinneas was hit with a particularly nasty spell from Maleficent, they both fell to the earth, Luna in his clutches. “Mother!” she cried.

“No! _Luna!_ ” Maleficent shrieked, spiraling from the skies towards them. She pulled up sharply when a blur of white rose to meet her, stabbing and slicing at her wings with blades longer than the body of Queen Mabh herself.

 

Her wings gushing blood from deep wounds and faltering, Maleficent had no choice but to turn and grab onto Mabh’s wings, tugging and biting. The weight of the much taller faery offset Mabh’s balance, and they fell to the battlefield, a whirling dervish of snapping teeth and clawing talons.

 

Sola watched from above Isobel in despair. She yelled down to her sister, who seemed enveloped by the fires of Hell itself. “Bel! I have to go to the front! Don’t do anything stupid!” Isobel didn’t look up, but she nodded. She had seen what Sola needed to attend to, and her teeth grit together as the power in her body reached such a point that her heart was racing and burning. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold out, but she had to stay the course to defend the Queens’ men.

 

Flying faster than she knew was possible, Sola’s shoulders began to ache. Looking between Tinneas and Luna’s fight and her mother and Mabh’s, she began to cry at her inability to help both at once.   Luna spit, hissed and kicked at Tinneas, but he was much larger and stronger than the faery princess. Maleficent seemed to be holding her own, but she was badly wounded. Her hexes and defensive motions were becoming slower and more labored as Mabh slashed at her with blades – she was tiring, and quickly.  

 

A bloodcurdling scream sounded from Luna’s lips, and Sola’s eyes were drawn to her sister again. Tinneas had begun ripping at Luna’s skirts in an effort to steal her virtue while the battle raged around them. Sola’s blood boiled, and she felt her skin burn with a glow of spells yet unleashed. Making her decision, there was no turning back. She swooped down to go head to head with Tinneas.

 

“Not my sister, you bastard!” she yelled, throwing a binding curse at his wings. Momentarily distracted, Tinneas turned to laugh at Sola. Looking down at Luna, he raised his fist up and nailed her directly in the jaw, effectively rendering the screaming girl unconscious while turning to fight Sola.

 

He unsheathed his blade, iron edged and polished to a glow in the sunlight. He thrust at Sola as he leapt into the sky, and their blades squealed as their enchantments warred, blue sparks flying from the metals. Thrust, parry, jab, slice – Sola put her strength into every motion as she and Tinneas circled one another in the air. The heavily muscled Prince returned every blow twice as hard, laying glancing blows to Sola’s wings and body. Sola felt herself being driven back to the earth, and her feet bounced along the jagged rock as she tried in vain to launch again.   Time began to slow in her eyes, and she saw her mother gazing in her direction as she momentarily dazed the Unseelie Queen with a hearty curse. They would lose if she delayed what her destiny called her to do. Now, it had to be now.   “Yes,” Sola spoke to the pulse of the Earth that flowed through her veins. “Yes, I understand.”

 

Tinneas’s blade drove deep into her gut, and he twisted it upwards before unsheathing it from her body. Sola felt blood pool her mouth, and dribble down her chin. She smiled widely at the Unseelie Prince; her teeth stained a ghastly red. A single tear rolled from her eyes and down her cheek as she spit a mouthful of her élan into his eyes. Her mother screamed in anguish so deep and vast, the ground began to shake.

“Fly true, oh sword of truth,” Sola choked her last breaths, her arm launching her gleaming sword whistling through the air. It sailed forth, landing directly between the wings of Queen Mabh to exit her chest. Maleficent jumped backwards and kicked the stomach of the dark faery Queen as she tumbled to the ground. Grasping the sword’s hilt, she pulled it quickly out, releasing a gush of blood from the dying Elder.

 

Running the yards towards her fallen child, Maleficent’s cry of revenge rang through the skies. Soldiers of each side paused to look at the magnificent woman as she swung Sola’s blade towards Tinneas’s neck, effectively decapitating the blood-blinded Prince from behind in one blow. The wails of the powerful faery Queen echoed the highlands as she threw herself to her knees alongside Sola. Cradling her precious daughter into her lap, Maleficent threw her head back and rocked back and forth, awash in grief.

 

Cowards that the Unseelie could be without a leader, they called for a retreat, not pausing to collect the bodies of their fallen Queen and Prince. The human army’s trumpets blared in a call of victory, and the soldiers that lived rushed back from the retreating forms of their enemy.

Maleficent continued to scream, her despondent and throaty cries casting a pall of misery and pain across the countryside.

 

 

 

[1]Macha (Macha Mong Ruad) - Macha, daughter of the Goddess Ernmas of the Tuatha Dé Danann. She is often mentioned together with her sisters, Anann and Nemain, of the _morrígna_ (trinity of The _Morrígan._ ) The term _Mesrad Machae_ , "the mast [acorn crop] of Macha", refers to "the heads of men that have been slaughtered." Macha was killed by Balor of the Evil Eye during the battle with the Fomorians to save her sister Nemain. She is resurrected in the Mythological Cycle as Macha Mong Ruad, or Macha Red Mane.

[2] Michty me – a term of exasperation.

[3] Morrígna (The Morrigan) – the Celtic Triple Goddess of Battle, Strife, and Sovereignty. Her essence is made up of three lesser but powerful sisters of the Tuatha Dé Danann: Macha, goddess of warfare and horses; Nemain, the goddess of the havoc, strife, and vengeance; and Anann, goddess of death and royalty.

[4] The Morrigan’s speech to the soldiers fighting Queen Maeve’s army at Connacht, foretelling the end of the world if the woman succeeded.


	24. M'anam Saor in Aisce (My Soul is Free)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Over at FF.net, I had an inquiry as to which sister was which in the Morrigan, so I thought I’d cover it here too: Sola (was) the reincarnation of Macha (Macha Red Mane.) Luna is Nemain, and Bel is indeed Anann. Luna was calling to her sister in her dreams. The Ulster Cycle of Celtic Mythology reincarnates the Morrigan sisters whenever needed to fight great evil. I truly suggest Googling each of the Goddesses and clicking on ‘Pictures’ – you will see how I based the girls on these Ancients for their appearances and personalities. 
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> The Place I’ll Return to Someday, Erutan
> 
> Sigma, Secret Garden

The morning dawned gray and sleeting, as if the very lands told of their woe. Maleficent would not have doubted it, had she not doubted the very meaning of life itself for the better part of an evening and wee hours. Curled up in the ledge of her bedchamber’s stained glass window, she’d opened the glass panes so that the wind could pelt her with tiny hail. It was better than feeling nothing at all. Having wept the night through, her heart felt empty.

With deadened eyes, she saw the Caoineadh[[1]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftn1) of the Seelie court entering the far edge of the skies. Her ears twitched at the sadness that rang through the air as they sang while flying towards the castle keep. She shivered at a memory of the shrill and otherworldly chants from the day that her parents had died. The Caoineadh would prepare Sola for her journey, and release her soul with their songs.

 

Aurora rolled in bed, a whimper escaping her lips. No doubt she could hear the faeries’ woeful calls as they drew nearer, even in sleep. Maleficent slunk down from her perch to approach the bed slowly. If she could put the day off any further, she would. As it was, all she wanted to do was crawl back into the cocoon of blankets and pull them over her head to block out the light. Sleep would be a futile effort, though.

Her hand brushed along Aurora’s cheek, resting a palm against the warm skin to wake the woman gently. “Mochroí...” she whispered, “I need to meet our guests.”

 

Inhaling slowly and stretching, the fair haired Queen opened her sapphire eyes and looked upwards. “Can’t I just stay in bed?” Her voice trembled, and tears began to fall from her eyes. Aurora had insisted all night that Flittle had not survived the massacre of the Moors, as she now felt sadness so vast that she wished the world would open up and swallow her whole. The blue butterfly pixie had blessed her to never be blue, and her spell was now forever broken. Curling her wings inwards in shame at her weakness, Aurora began to weep miserably.

Maleficent couldn’t bear the sight, unfurling the wings and stuffing herself into the space opened to clutch the tiny woman tightly.   “It will make no difference to the world, our tears. I learned that long ago, my sweet. The sun dares to rise again, and so must we,” she murmured against Aurora’s hair.

 

Aurora shook her head vehemently. “No, I don’t want to get up. The world can go on living. Our sweet baby...Sola is...” a hiccoughing cry choked in her throat.

Words were useless now, Maleficent decided. Kissing her love’s forehead, she simply rocked them back and forth while holding on as tightly as she could without aggravating the iron wounds still healing on her arms and wings. Closing her eyes, she fought mightily against the rising lump in her throat, but lost. Her tears joined Aurora’s as she slid her face down to meet the Queen’s, cheek to cheek.

 

A gentle knock came from the door, and Maleficent lifted her head gently. “Enter,” she called.

Isobel and Luna slipped inside, quiet as mice. They had already dressed for the day in matching black damask dresses, but their eyes were bloodshot and hair a tangled mess. Isobel quickly crept into the bed, burrowing herself between Maleficent and Aurora.

Luna stood nearby, leaning one foot to the other and looking conflicted. Her left eye was swollen shut and bruised purple, and she winced at having squinted in emotion. “The keeners are here, Mother. They’re asking for you,” she mumbled, the pain of her injuries making it difficult to speak.

 

Now truly unable to deny that she was needed downstairs, Maleficent reluctantly slid from the bed. Tucking Isobel under the blankets with Aurora, she turned to Luna. “First I shall have a look at your face, darling. I am so very sorry I wasn’t able to yet.”

“S’alright, Mother. You needed to heal your wings ‘fore me, I know,” Luna whispered.

Lifting her glowing hands to the battered cheeks and eye, Maleficent kissed the girl’s forehead tenderly. While she felt sinew and bone knit together again underneath her fingertips, Luna hissed in pain. Drawing her lips back to meet her daughter’s gaze, she tried to ask the question that weighed so heavily on her heart. “I didn’t think… Are you… in order elsewhere? He didn’t…” Her wings stiffened and rose up in a flash of anger so quick, she couldn’t even continue.

 

“No, no.” Luna responded quickly. Suddenly, tears rolled down her cheeks. “Sola…Oh, Sola. I was so awful to her. She was so awful to me! And then…” Howling, she threw herself into Maleficent’s arms.

“I think your sister’s idea of loving something was to strike at it,” Maleficent stated sadly. “She loved to hit you, therefore she loved you well.”

 

Sputtering a bitter laugh through her tears, Luna released her mother’s embrace. “I can walk you down, Mother. Shall we leave Mama and Bel to rest a bit more?”

Nodding her agreement, Maleficent walked to her dressing table and reached inside a drawer for a leather pouch. Stuffing it into her pocket, she wove an arm around Luna’s wings to lead her through the doorway and down the hall.

 

In bed, Aurora’s heart felt the sting of joy at hearing Luna call her Mama warring against the despair of losing Sola.

Isobel was silent, staring blankly out the window.

 

* * *

 

 

Sola was warm, and content. Cradled in strong arms, she snuggled her face deeply into what felt like a woman’s lap.  

 

A chuckle vibrated from behind her head, and hands ran their way through her hair. The comforting motion felt so good, she never wanted it to end. Sighing sleepily, she looked up.

A beaming smile met her eyes, set in a face that radiated the purest love. The glow around the woman was so intense that Sola squinted and closed her eyes again.

 

“Gariníon,”[[2]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftn2) the woman spoke proudly. “My brave and wild girl.”

Sola was struck with the realization of whose lap she rested her head upon, and it pleased her. She began to notice how very soft of the white sleeping gown she wore was, and the sounds of teeming nature around them. “Maimeó?”[[3]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftn3) she asked, her voice shy.

“Yes, I am.” the voice said soothingly.

 

Puzzling out her momentary confusion, Sola found that she didn’t care. All that she cared about was some more of her grandmother’s cuddling. Reaching up to find a hand, she put it back on her hair and waited until fingers began to tickle her scalp again. “So, am I dead?” she inquired lightly.

Hermia’s response was soft. “Yes, my darling. Are you afraid?”

“Nah. I think it hurt for a moment, but I feel fine now. More than fine.” Sola sat up next to her impossibly tall grandmother and felt quite small. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think Maimeó was even taller than Mother. Mother? What did she look like again? Her memory of a tall woman with horns and flowing mahogany hair slipped through her mind like a sieve.

 

“Where are your wings?” Sola blurted out, uncomfortable at beginning to forget what her own mother looked like.

A tinkling laugh came from the golden woman that sounded like bells. She resonated light from within, and was absolutely beautiful. “They’re your Mama’s now, remember?”

“Oh,” Sola responded, trying to remember. Not recalling a specific memory, she tried not to let it bother her. Still, she turned to peer at her own wings, circling like a dog chasing its tail.  

 

Hermia’s hand found Sola’s, and she tugged the girl into her lap again to hug her tightly. Her granddaughter was amusing in her slight daftness at having been recently dead – everything here was a wonder, fleeting memories of the mortal plane becoming questions on the tip of the tongue. She looked forward to experiencing it again through newer, fresher eyes.

“I feel like my head’s stuffed with fleece, but that’s all right,” Sola stammered, giggling.

“It’s definitely normal, and it will pass. It’s not unusual to feel that way at first – it helps you to stay here with me, rather than be lost in the winds of the Earth, searching for your body.” Hermia asserted. “You have no cares here to worry about, my courageous little warrior. Stay with me; stay with Maimeó,” she coaxed.

 

Sola leaned her head against Hermia’s shoulder. Warm arms wrapped around her again, but her curiosity was peaked. “I can’t go back, can I?”

“It is… inadvisable, Sola. Your injuries were grievous.” Hermia’s hand brushed along the girl’s forehead, willing her to remember _just enough_.

 _Sickeningly salty tang exploding in her mouth. Gurgling breaths burning her lungs. Screams all around._ Sola sat up abruptly and tried to shrug out of her grandmother’s embrace, gasping in pain.   Hermia hung on, hushing her like a wee babe. Faster than it had come, the pain was gone.

 

“I don’t want to go back,” she said quickly. She’d do anything but to experience that horrific place again.

“Mmmm, you might change your mind as you remember the joys of life,” Hermia smirked.

 

Sola was not convinced whatsoever. “Like what? Did you ever want to go back?”

“Oh, your Mother…” Hermia’s voice turned wistful. “Your Mama, and your sisters. Please trust me when I say that they will be fine. Danu heard your last wish, and your sacrifice has not been in vain. She is ever so proud of you, too. You can see it in everything around us. I’ve only ever _wanted_ to go back once, to protect your Mother. It was long after I had died, and part of her wheel of Fate, so it was impossible.”

 

Finally looking around, Sola saw that they sat in a fine rowan tree, stuffed to the gills with plush blankets and pillows. Books were here and there, and her sword was hanging from an upper branch. Outside, she could hear birdsong and waves lapping on a beach somewhere. Oh, how she loved the beach…

_Galloping along the coastline on a strangely feathered black stallion, Sola whooped. Her long red curls blazed behind her, and she relished the feeling of the cool sea air on her cheeks. “Mother, Mother!” she giggled. Wings curled around her, and a throaty laugh warmed her ear._

 

Startled, Sola looked at Hermia, who merely smiled indulgently and patiently. “You’re fine, love. Memories will come and go,” she cooed.   “Life goes ever so fast, and here is eternity.”

 

* * *

 

Twilight had fallen on the kingdom, and it was time to say goodbye. Maleficent and Aurora stood atop the hillock nearest the front entrance to the forests where the Protectors of the Highland Moors met their final rest, Luna and Isobel to their sides.   Gleaming white-robed faery women with silver hair took a place of honor nearest them, weaving a mournful tale of sorrow for Sola. They sang of her honor, her bravery, and her courage in accepting the will of the Goddess. Voices lifting higher and higher, the keeners asked Danu to safeguard Sola’s body as a mother would a babe in the womb.

 

Aurora sobbed bitterly into her hands, a black gauze veil covering her head. While gritting her teeth, Maleficent’s eyes looked everywhere but next to her – if she looked directly at her Queen as she carried on, she would certainly be done for. Already, tears had coursed their way down her cheeks. Eyes burning in rejection of the emotions that threatened to spill forth, Maleficent blinked rapidly.

 

 _After having gone downstairs to greet the keening faeries with Luna, they’d had her bring them upon the odd human crypt where Sola’s body laid cold on a slab of rough marble. The eldest of the_ _Caoineadh clutched Maleficent’s shoulder sharply, and asked her to stay to witness the rituals. ‘It will give you the strength you will need later,’ the voice beneath the shadowy hood had rasped. The four Banshees had waved a wide-eyed and shivering Luna off, and she scampered up the stone stairs readily, not looking back._

 _They wove spells together over Sola, Maleficent pouring all of her love for the sweet and tempermental girl that had once resided in the body. Blood was wiped away from cheek and lip, and hair brushed artfully over one shoulder to a red-gold gleam. An impossibly fine white gown with knotwork embroidery was pulled from of one of the_ _bean sìths’ robes, and Maleficent dressed her daughter with the utmost care. While humans were fond of black for mourning, faeries preferred white – a soul pure, clean and free of worldly cares more readily went to its paradise. This belief was reflected in the color the Fair Folk dressed their dead in._

_At long last, she reached into her pocket for the leather pouch containing one of her mother’s diadems, given from the Fae of the Highland Moors to their Protectoress over 60 years prior. Weaving it into Sola’s hair, Maleficent’s breathing became heavy, and her heart clenched agonizingly. The faeries around her had begun to wail, begging Sola’s soul to be free and not to haunt her mother if she saw the Faery Queen’s weeping. Their hands came forward to drape the Princess in a gauzy shroud, tucking it around her._

 

The sound of horns and pounding drums[[4]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftn4) from the mournful humans brought Maleficent from her reverie. The healthy citizens of Aurora’s kingdom had turned out in the thousands, and she could not count them as they stretched across the valley – a veritable sea of mourning for their savior Princess. Even some wounded knights who had fought alongside Sola had limped their way here, kissing their fingertips to brush across the bier that carried Sola as it was carted up the hills by a pair of white mares.

As the faeries sang their lament at the loss of Sola and the burning of the Highland Moors, the humans played their instruments. Voices and strains of music lifted to the heavens,

 

Bim ar thoir an comhartha  
Scaoileas m'anam saor  
Caithfidh mo chroi a  
bheith glan  
Roimh siochan theacht crum  
  
Sí an ghaoth do ghuth  
Sí an bháisteach do dheora  
Grian, do chroí ar las  
Do spiorad mo shlánú

 

(I search for the sign  
That will set my soul free  
My heart must be pure  
So that I can find peace  
  
The wind is your voice  
The rains are your tears  
Your burning heart  
And spirit is my salvation)

 

The bier came to a stop in front of the Queens, and Maleficent bit at her lip to keep from crying out. Sola could not see her sad – lest the soul stay to comfort her. Their wildling girl, brave and true, needed to be free. Instead of looking on as the gentlemen of the small council grasped Sola’s shrouded body to bring her to the burial mound, Maleficent shoved her face deep into Aurora’s black veils.   Only then did she allow a heartbroken wail pass her lips, wings shuddering with the release.

 

Luna threw herself to the ground with a heave, and tore at the dead grass under the frost. She didn’t bother to try to conceal her screams, and they rose above the horns in shrillness. She was alive because Sola was dead, and for that she thought she would never forgive herself.   If only she had been a better fighter, or better at spell work… she might have been able to help rather than be decked unconscious by a mingin’ faery Prince.   She grasped at Isobel’s skirts, and tugged. Isobel did not look down, choosing instead to stare ahead vacantly.

 

The bean sìth came forward to take Sola’s body from the men of the council, and they crouched to lay her into the ground. Lighting the bundles of kindling that had ridden here alongside the Princess – interwoven with ivy, roses, and all sort of green house flowers from the castle, they once again stood back. Sola’s garments and shroud quickly caught aflame, and the humans began to bow and curtsey in respect to their Queens before departing slowly.

 

Without warning, Isobel snapped. Tossing herself near the burning body of her sister, she fought against the faery women who clutched at her shoulders and skirts. “Put me in too!” she screamed. “She is my sister-born-together, I am nothing without her… put me in, too!”

“No, Bel!” Maleficent screeched, yanking at the despondent girl with all of her might. They tumbled backwards, a tangle of wings and limbs.

“Ach! Let me go, Mother! I need to be with her!” Isobel hollered, clawing at Maleficent’s velvet robes.

 

Furious and despairing all at once, the horned faery could do nothing else but close her much larger wings around Isobel and hold the girl fast within her arms. Aurora had gone to comfort Luna, the two standing away from the smoldering barrow, too afraid to look upon Sola now.

“I hate you! I hate you! I’ll never forgive you! She’ll never find her way back again – you’ve let her go!” Isobel shrieked at Maleficent, wriggling to be free. The Caoineadh had stepped in front of the toppled-over Queen and Princess to block their sensitive eyes from the view of the barrow, as they continued to chant.

 

[[1]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftnref1) Caoineadh – “Keeners,” faeries whose duty is to lament death and guide the souls to Tír na nÓg. Commonly, they are called bean sìth, or Banshees.

[[2]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftnref2) Gariníon – grand daughter.

[[3]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftnref3) Maimeó – pet name for a beloved Grandmother.

[[4]](https://www.fanfiction.net/docs/docs.php#_ftnref4) If you would like to see/hear Bronze & Iron Age and Early Medieval Celtic Horn instruments that were in common use before the invention of the modern bagpipe, please visit http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w4t8ap5KXqQ


	25. Utamáil sa Dorchadas Bhfianaise a Aimsiú (Fumbling in Darkness to Find Light)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ooookay, folks. Keep your Kleenex handy… Just a friendly warning from your favorite evil writer. ;)
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> I’m In Here, Sia (Piano/Vocal Version)
> 
> Like You, Evanescence
> 
> Lullaby, Sia

  


**“You and I wear the dangerous looseness of doom and find it becoming.**

**Life, for eternal us, is now; and now is much too busy being a little more than everything to seem anything,**

**catastrophic included.”**

**– ee cummings**

 

* * *

 

Aurora leaned on her elbow, chin resting in her hand, and tried in vain to pay attention to the many citizens and courtiers requesting favors and aid.

 

Their voices were like the buzzing of bees to her ears – she was hearing them, but not the words. Next to her, the deep timbre of Maleficent’s voice answered their requests.

 

She looked over the assembled mass of people come to see them today, but she didn’t see individuals. Her eyes glazed over to view it as a blur of colors. It was the beginning of a headache, she knew – one of many that had plagued her since the horrible days of Nollaig.[1] Yuletide had come and gone without much merriment, though the peasants did indeed try. They’d searched the Highlands for holly bushes and mistletoe to cheer their Queens and Princesses, but the greenery had soon died in the presence of such sadness.

_Maleficent scowled as she tossed the dead things into the fireplace in small fits. Aurora sat upon her fireside chair, head leaning away from the sight.   Isobel and Luna laid on their bellies, playing Nine Men’s Morris on their wooden board, hair drawn like curtains as their foreheads touched._

 

Now Feabhra,[2] Maleficent had tried to coax Aurora from her shell of depression. She’d bring cuttings of the early blooming roses from their greenhouse and lay them upon Aurora’s pillow for the Queen to see as she awoke late in the mornings. ‘Meet me in our place,’ the buds and petals begged.   Aurora had tossed each and every one to the floor, and gone back underneath her coverlets until her handmaidens would insist she arise to eat lunch.

 

Today, Maleficent had pulled Aurora forcibly from the bed after she’d skipped luncheon. She’d dressed the Queen herself, glaring all the while _._

_“You do not enjoy my tokens?” she sniped curtly.   Aurora shrugged; turning away from the tall faery once the last stay had been tightened quite hastily on her corset. It should have hurt, her breasts spilling over and her lungs wondering where all their air had gone… but she didn’t care._

 

“Your Majesty… Aurora?” Maleficent’s voice broke through her daydream. “Do you think that two bronze sceatts[3] per ten head of livestock is well enough for the farmers to replace their herds?” Teal eyes burned with annoyance as they met hers. Maleficent knew she’d not been listening.

 “Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Whatever you think is best, Maleficent.” Aurora responded loud enough for all to hear. Tearing her eyes away from the sulky faery that was her mate, Aurora stood and faced the crowd. “I bid you all good day, I am feeling in need of a lay down.”

 

Aurora heard the telltale noise of feathers bristling and becoming erect with displeasure behind her, but she didn’t look back as she stepped down the dais. Turning as she felt light hands on the crook of her elbow, she spied Isobel’s worried face.

 

“I’ll take you, Lady Mother,” she whispered, and pulled Aurora close to her.   They exited the throne room and slowly made their way up the stairs.   Upon reaching the bedchamber, Isobel began to make quick work of her mama’s dress, humming in disapproval.

 

“Mama, your stays were much too tight today. No wonder you’re all dwaibly.”[4] Isobel tutted, finally lifting the offending overdress from Aurora over her head. Not saying anything in reply, Aurora reached out and pulled her daughter to her in a tight embrace.

 

“I’m sorry, Bel. I know you’d much rather be with your friends and Luna downstairs. I can take care of myself now,” the Queen murmured.

 

Swaying gently with her mama in the embrace, Isobel’s eyes began to water. “Not as much as I’d like to hop in bed with you. I’ve missed you, and Mother doesn’t like it when we try to sleep in during the day. She’s trying to get us to not be sad, I know… But sometimes I just want to sleep the day away.”

 

Sniffing and suddenly alert, Aurora peered into her daughter’s eyes. “Well then! Let’s be naughty together! I can rest my head and you can burrow with me.”

 

Soon enough, they were under the sheets and blankets, giggling as Aurora tickled Isobel’s sides. “Listen to us, Mama. We sound like a bunch of hens gone mad!”

 

Aurora pinched Bel’s hip a bit to make her daughter yelp in delight. Without thinking, she blurted out what came unbidden to her mind and heart. “Well, as Sola would say when the court girls would chase her ‘round… Hauld yer’ wheesht[5], you mad hens!” Suddenly, their laughter was silent. Trying to regain the moment of gaiety, Aurora fumbled. “She would… She always said… Oh, the girls don’t like me, Ma.’”

 

Tears rolled over the edge of Isobel’s sharp cheekbones, and she wiped them away quickly. The moment of happiness had been brief, and painful. She shoved it away, along with the aching that had accompanied the mention of Sola’s name. Once her heart was empty again, she sighed. The days since Sola’s burial had been so very dark for her – some mornings she felt so angry at her loneliness and despair that she wanted to burn it out with a hot knife. Throwing things helped, but the handmaids shook their heads at that. Sleeping in helped, but Mother had put a quick end to that for both her and Luna. Now, she scribbled furiously in an empty book that Mother had given her what seemed to be an eternity ago. Dark spells, evil hexes… the more nefarious, the better. Her face would light up with a malicious smile when she wrote down her hatred for those who had killed her sister.

 

The same odd smile crept to her face again, and her mama noticed. Eyebrows knit together in confusion and unhappiness, and the Queen wiped at Isobel’s lips. “Don’t make that face, Isobel Yvaine. It frightens me.”

 

“What face, Mama?” Isobel cheeked innocently.

 

“That face, your Mother used to… Never mind.” Aurora stammered. With a hefty sigh, she snuggled her daughter close to her chest and threw the blankets over them, effectively blocking out the light.

 

* * *

 

 

Maleficent walked the greenhouse after a long day of receiving citizens and courtiers without Aurora’s assistance, and rolled her shoulders to release the tension of having sat on her wings for the better part of a day. The courtiers were feasting on their supper now, but she had left the great hall for solitude, nodding to Luna on her way out. Luna had nodded back in understanding, lifting her chin regally before leaning forward to entertain the assembled people.   Her daughter was good; she had to admit – Luna was well taught all of her life to be a Princess.

 

Over the years, the metal and glassblower guilds had added on more and more to this masterpiece that could hardly be called a mere greenhouse any longer. Maleficent was sure that by the time she and Aurora ventured into the sunset to allow their daughters or grandchildren to take over that the size would rival the remainder of the castle itself. Greenery here bloomed verdant even in the dead of winter, and it brought joy to her heart that she’d previously only known in the Moors.

 

The Moors – that would be a feat unto itself to repair and coax back into life. She’d visited it on Imbolc[6] to begin the process, but little could be done until the weather warmed a bit more. Luna had expressed her interest in helping closer to Bealtaine, and Maleficent would be glad for the help from the daughter that had the green touch like her.

 

Slipping her shoes off by a stone bench, she wriggled her long toes into the grass and earth and groaned in relief. Maleficent loathed foot coverings of any kind, but she couldn’t very well receive Aurora’s people with naked toes these days and beg ignorance. The seamstresses and wardrobe had tolerated it for a few years, but over time they’d begun to tuck shoes or boots where she’d find them for the day as a gentle hint that _humans liked shoes_.

 

Ducking into the trees, she sought Diaval. Whistling low and loud, her tune to call him echoed over the sound of the man-made stream that ran through this section of the greenhouse, bringing fresh water to the ponds. Arching her ears forward, she listened for his reply, but found none. What she did hear was a small, feminine gasp, sniffling, and a whimper of fear.

 

Frowning, Maleficent pushed on towards the noise. In the center of the large copse of oaks, the grass was downy soft with hundreds of daisies blooming. Underneath some of the older growth trees that a recent expansion had come up around there crouched a girl of middling teen age. Her raven black hair was straight and long, and eyes a piercing blue, like the skies in winter. She had obviously been crying, Maleficent surmised from the dried trails of them on her cheeks and the ruddy shade of her face. In her lap lay a chain of the daisies, which she promptly tried to hide between the folds of her skirt. There was a niggling in the back of her mind about the girl, that she _should_ recall her very particular face.

 

“Y-Your Majesty, I am so sorry…” she stuttered, beginning to rise.

 

“No, don’t get up,” Maleficent responded, curious about the little sprite she’d found. Pushing at a shoulder to entice the girl to sit once more, she crossed her legs and wings with a flourish and sat gently down to peer at the human. “I feel as if I should remember you, child. Do my eyes deceive me?”

 

“Oh, oh me?” the young lady looked anywhere but in Maleficent’s eyes, trembling slightly. “I’m just Caitriona, daughter of Dúngal mac Selbaig, of Ulstead **.** I suppose you might remember me…I used to play with your daughter. Daughters. Yes, daughters.”

 

“Why do you weep, child? Do you grieve the loss of someone from the battle?” Leaning forward, she took the young woman’s hand between her own, brushing the skirt surreptitiously to reveal the chain of daisies again.

 

“I-uh, yes. My… friend, from when I was a babe until I left this kingdom. We’ve just moved to Ulstead six seasons[7] or so ago… when my father inherited his House,” Caitriona replied, evasive and nervous.

 

Keeping her face placid, Maleficent tried another tactic to get the girl to relax and open up. “Do you know what daisies mean to the Fae?”

 

Caitriona didn’t respond so much as peer down at the daisy chain, fingering the soft white petals like they were the richest, most precious possession she had. Smiling gently underneath her closed lips, Maleficent plucked another bloom from the soft grass and twirled it near the girl’s view between her fingertips. “ _The_ _fairy poet takes a sheet of moonbeam, silver white; his ink is dew from daisies sweet, his pen a point of light._ _My love, I know is fairer far than his, though she indeed be fair. We should dwell where fairies are, for I could praise her there. **[8]** _ The daisy represents a woman’s womb, fertility; the sun, round with warmth and its blessings. That’s why some call it the Day’s Eye,” she recited her knowledge.

 

“I made the chain as a remembrance. I miss and love them so,” Caitriona nodded, whispering ever so lightly.

 

Nudging the girl’s chin up with the edge of her hand, Maleficent searched her eyes. “Did you truly love _them_? Life is not worth living without sorrow to show us what true love really is,” she stated.

 

Smiling lightly at the game she knew the faery Queen was playing, Caitriona sighed. “Yes, I’d like to think I truly loved them. D’you really believe that, Majesty?”

 

Looking slightly offended, Maleficent’s tone was playfully mocking, “I do not say anything I do not mean, Caitriona mac Selbaig. And yes, I believe it… most days.” She tucked the daisy she’d been toying with behind the girl’s ear, where it shone against the dark hair like a beacon of light. “Take your daisy chain with you, I give you permission.” Jerking her chin towards the pathway, Maleficent gave the girl her wordless dismissal.

 

“Oh, thank you Majesty!” Caitriona yelped, and leaned forward with wide-open arms to embrace the faery before catching herself. Standing quickly, she curtsied with awkwardness. “I bid you good evening, my Queen.”

 

Sitting in the small grove afterwards, Maleficent’s heart began to heal. Picking another daisy, she twirled it again through her fingers and kissed the center. Shaking her head with a wry half-smile, she spoke to the flower. “You might have hid it well, Sola you stubborn thing, but it was good to find that you knew some love.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was late hours by the time Maleficent stood over her bed, smirking at Isobel and Aurora curled up under blankets. They’d slept clear through supper, judging by the still-covered trays resting on the table.   With a sigh, she peeled back the covers and slid her arms under Bel’s wings and torso, lifting the girl from her mama’s embrace.

 

Isobel mumbled, and her eyes fluttered, but she didn’t awake fully. Ever so slowly, Maleficent walked down the hallway, ignoring the pointed smiles of the handmaids and guards that probably saw motherly weakness in her actions. By the tenth smile, she scowled and hissed, widening her eyes dangerously. That maid scurried away. Maleficent smiled, then.

 

Quickly, she tucked Bel into bed with Luna, who was snoring lightly. Sitting a few minutes on the edge of the girls’ bed, her eyes drank in their beauty beneath the moonlight streaming through the windows. Closing her eyes, she sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Goddess for gifting their spirits to her and Aurora. They were certainly children no longer – faeries matured much more quickly than humans, and Luna and Isobel’s cheekbones had begun to loose the rounded chubbiness underneath. All too soon, their bodies would turn womanly, and appealing. Soon, so very soon, her roses would bloom. It set her on edge, and she wished to rewind the years to go back to the fateful day that she’d lost Luna on the Moors. She would have found her, somehow. They would have lived in peace. Sola would still be here… ‘Oh, Sola,’ she thought dismally, and rose from the bed to glide back out of the room.  

 

Walking back to her bedchamber was much quicker, as she didn’t need to be quiet now. As she walked back into her room, she quickly shrugged out of her robes and unwound her hair. Crawling into bed with Aurora, she examined her mate’s stress-wrinkled brow and lips turned down at the edges. Maleficent reached forward to lightly smooth the brow, and cupped Aurora’s cheek. “’Rora? Darling, I’m here,” she murmured.

 

A huff came from the Queen’s lips, and Maleficent kissed the edge of them softly.

 

In her dreams, Aurora was squinting her eyes against a summer sun. _“Hello?” she called. Her voice carried through the tall grasses and trees, and birds chirped happily from them._

_A face peeked upside down from a large Rowan nearest the edge of the forest. “Um, hello?” the face called back._

_Walking towards the tree, Aurora felt as if her feet were deep in mud.   She was tiring easily, slogging forward to land on her knees._

_The person scrambled from the tree, but did not approach. It was a young woman with blazing red hair, dressed in a white funerary gown. She lifted her hand up in greeting, but looked very confused. “Who’re you?” she called across the clearing._

_Aurora began to sob and cry, crawling towards the tree that seemed to be so very far away. “Sola! Sola, don’t you know me? It’s Mama!” she screamed, as the grasses began to grow, partially obscuring her view of her treasured baby girl._

_A voice echoed the field, resonating so deeply the flowers trembled and the birds quieted.  The air shimmered with energy from the non-corporeal voice. “Sola, come to me. Come to me… Aurora?”_

_“No, please! Don’t take her away. I just saw her!” the Queen hollered, clawing at the grasses._

_“Aurora, you must go,” the voice was undeterred, and firm._

_“No! No, you go! I won’t leave her!” The ground opened up to swallow her, and Aurora squealed in fear as she realized she was falling into a grave, much like the burning mound near the Moors._

 

_“Aurora!”_

_._

_._

_._

 

**_“Aurora!”_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

 

 **“AURORA!”** Maleficent shouted, shaking her mate awake from the nightmare.

 

Flying out of bed, the petite blonde was heaving. She wretched into the night basket in the corner, her wings drooping and shuddering.   Maleficent tiptoed behind her, resting a light hand and petting it along the humerus of Aurora’s left wing.

 

Once finished divesting herself of whatever resided in her stomach, the Queen shrugged her wing away from Maleficent’s gentle touch. Aurora stood quickly, throwing on a wool gown over her night shift.

 

Trying not to move too quickly or offend the half-awake woman, Maleficent tried to unlace the gown and lift it back off. “No, mo chroí. Where are you going in such a state? It’s not even dawn yet.”

 

Aurora’s sapphire eyes were wild as she backed away from Maleficent’s grasp. She tugged on the gown’s side laces again. “I just… I need to fly. I’ll be back later,” she sputtered. Stepping onto the balcony, she leapt downwards without preparing herself, gliding to a bad landing with an ‘Oof!’ in the inner bailey yard.

 

Maleficent stood with her hand over her face for a moment, and took a deep breath while palming her forehead in consternation. Throwing a night-robe around herself, she flapped down to where Aurora angrily was hitting her own wings, which in turn were batting back.

 

“Awful, stubborn, hateful things! Why ever don’t you do what I want?” Aurora screeched at the auburn and copper pence feather appendages that prickled with amusement at their owner.

 

Unable to contain her own laughter, Maleficent reached over to Aurora and pet the wings again. “They are still considered new to you, and you to them. The girls and I have tried to tell you countless times – you must become friends with your wings, trust them. Otherwise, they don’t trust you. If I had any clue of why they’re being disobedient right now, it’s because you’re probably up to no good. Wings will always protect their owner.”

 

Miffed at being laughed at, Aurora fixed Maleficent with a glare. “I need to fly to the Moors. Why wouldn’t they behave for that? Besides, you did all sorts of bad things when you were younger and…” Aurora’s voice died, and she gulped.

 

“And I walked there to do it,” Maleficent finished, her face frowning.

 

“I just need to sit with her a while, Malle. I… I dreamt of her,” Aurora whispered.

 

Nodding silently to hide the wounded quality her voice would certainly have at the moment, the horned woman unhitched a horse that had been saddled for the morning couriers and town criers.   Handing Aurora the reins, Maleficent stared out the castle gateway.

 

“How do you stand it?” Aurora wondered aloud, fierceness in her tone.

 

Maleficent gulped deeply, and her eyes watered before turning to face her mate. “Because, I have you. I would be there for you, but you wish me to leave you alone in your grief. So, here I will stay.” There was no disguising the hurt in her voice, and Aurora winced.

 

Reaching out to cup a sharp cheekbone after leaping onto the horse, Aurora’s heart broke at the sight of Maleficent’s defeat at not knowing what to do to help her. “I am sorry, my love…” she mumbled.

 

Rejecting her apology, Maleficent turned around. “Well, go then!” her voice cracked with tears unseen.

 

The shout startled the horse, and Aurora did not stop the animal from galloping from the castle, through the town and into the countryside.  

* * *

 

 

[1] Nollaig – December

[2] Feabhra - February

[3] sceatts – bronze or silver coinage commonly used in early Medieval Scotland, entering society when trade was established with Norse peoples.

[4] Dwaibly – weak, shaky, depressed

[5] Hauld yer wheesht – Be quiet!

[6] **Imbolc** or **Imbolg** (pronounced i-Molk or i-Molg) also called **(Saint) Brighid's Day** is a Gaelic festival marking the beginning of spring. Most commonly it is held on the 1 st of February, or about halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox.

[7] Six seasons – 1 ½ years.

[8] ‘In Fairyland,’ by Joyce Kilmer


	26. Rós Faoi Bhláth (Rose in Bloom)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well… What is in store for our characters now? I think I may have tortured y’all enough with sadness and tears, so perhaps we could get some happiness? Hey, characters… you with me? On the chapter soundtrack, you can use the Sleeping Beauty soundtrack itself, but I would recommend Youtubing it as I did because it cuts out a lot of ridiculously interruptive storyline noises and the movie score soundtrack doesn’t include the birdsong, either.
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> Do You Hear That? (Youtube Briar Rose Sings in the Forest)  
> An Unusual Prince/Once Upon a Dream (Youtube Once Upon a Dream Sleeping Beauty)
> 
> The Village Festival, Erutan  
> Round and Round, Erutan  
> Birds of a Feather, Erutan

 

**“In the woods there grew a tree**  
 **A fine, fine tree was he**  
 **On that tree there was a limb**  
 **And on that limb there was a branch**  
 **On that branch there was a nest**  
 **And in that nest there was an egg**  
 **In that egg there was a bird**  
 **And from that bird a feather came**  
 **Of that feather was a bed**  
  
 **On that bed there was a girl**  
 **And on that girl there was a man**  
 **From that man there was a seed**  
 **And from that seed there was a boy**  
 **From that boy there was a man**  
 **And for that man there was a grave**  
 **From that grave there grew a tree.”**

-       **“May Pole Song,” the Wicker Man**

* * *

 

“I’ll do the far side of the Moors, and you do the woods closest to the border here. Don’t wander too far from the Cottage,” Maleficent ordered, her voice barely concealing the fear of letting Luna out of her sight.

Eyes bright with excitement, Luna tried to reassure the older faery with her obedience. “Yes, Mother. I won’t stray too far.”

Wings spread for take off; Maleficent spared a longing glance at her daughter who was fourteen this very day. “Mmmmm, all right then.” She leapt into the breezes that rushed through the trees.

 

Luna turned then, to kiss her blonde sister’s forehead. Isobel’s nose was in a book as she sat on a barrel in the garden. Bel didn’t respond, but she smiled slyly from behind the pages. Inside, their Mama sang songs that she’d taught the girls from her childhood here, sounding like a nightingale. The Moors seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at the very presence of their Queen. Luna would be happy to make them green and whole with life again, and hoped the Moors would do the same for her Mama. She’d been so very tortured over the loss of Sola.

 

Snatching a basket from a nail outside the kitchen window to collect trinkets as she worked, Luna headed into the trees. As she walked and floated along, Fae of all sort would peek out at her in curiosity – some were injured, some not. They were in the trees that had survived the fire, and the Sidhe mounds near the river and great lake.   Some boobries floated next to her, clacking their beaks in welcome and blinking their thanks as her hands pet their heads lovingly.

Inhaling deeply, she began to appreciate the scent of spring on the air. It was her name day, and the day had dawned a beautiful blue with clouds like airy fleece. The birds of the Moors and the air dryads flew around her, whipping her hair to and fro. Giggling at them, she waved her hello. They came up to float in front of her, giving shy smiles.   Singing their unique language, the dryads asked if she’d come to heal the Moors, and asked who she was.

 

“Yes. I’m Luna,” she answered simply. The birds swooped and chirped some more, and the dryads sang back. It was all so beautiful; Luna couldn’t help but join in. Lifting her voice loud and clear, she sang in tandem with the Fae and wildlife. They stayed with her as she walked along, touching branches and tree trunks. Behind her, green sprouted and bloomed; scarred and burnt bark mended, and flower vines crept up branches to blossom in her direction. The boobrie hooted his happiness at her singing and floated on.

Being Bealtaine, the humans were out in throngs near the Moors – having set up a large birch maypole to dance around, the festival would soon be in full swing. The afternoon would be full of merriment and games, and towards the evening, the druids and priestesses of the Old Gods would handfast men and women for a year and a day. If they still loved each other next year, they’d be married permanently. The Christian priests and monks were up in arms about it, shaking their heads from the monastery window.

_It had only made Mother laugh. “So, let the humans have their time for fertility. Humans must have their first season sometime, just as all animals do. Bealtaine is their season to rut about.” Mama had whacked her playfully then, but her eyes shone with humor as she coughed to cover a laugh._

 

* * *

 

 

Being that the Highland Moors needed far more than two faeries talented in draíochta glas to heal fully, the Seelie court had sent envoys per Maleficent’s request.   One such faery was sitting along the stream, washing up in preparation for the day.   His chest glistening in the sunlight after bathing, he shook his dark hair out to dry.

 

The voice of an aingeal floated on the air to his ears, and she-who-sang-like-the-heavens broke through the tree line and into the glen followed by a boobrie. Hopping down and behind a large bush, the faery watched the radiant vision waltz gaily over steppingstones to dance near the Throne of the Moors.

 

The air Fae were playing along with her game, entertaining the beautiful female faery by swirling around her. Unfortunately for him, the Boobrie had spotted his shirt and stuck its beaked head ridiculously through the garment, floating back over to the dancing maiden.

 

“Oh! It’s my dream prince! Your highness,” she laughed and teased, taking one of the boobries’ front claws lightly between her delicate fingers and swinging and twirling around. Everywhere her feet touched bloomed an iris, or a daffodil. Moss trailed her skipping feet, glistening with morning dew as if the rocks had never been bare from the destruction a scant season ago. Her wings were iridescent brown and bronze, and they flapped and glided joyfully behind her. Could there be anything more gorgeous than this woman? He must get closer, if only to view her face before she struck him dead – for she surely was a Siren.

Her voice was shy as she talked to the air Fae. “Oh? Another song? All right then… My mother sings a song, maybe you’ve heard it before?” The boobrie clacked excitedly.

 

“I know you, I’ve walked with you once upon a dream… “ she crooned while hopping lithely from stone to stone. “But if I know you, I know what you’ll do… you’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.”   Her pale face and rosy cheeks were so very close to his hiding place now. Turn your face, Aingeal…

 

No, it couldn’t be! Maleficent had horns, and was vastly older than this heavenly body brought down to slay his heart on Bealtaine day. Blinking his dark indigo eyes rapidly at the sight, he began to see the differences. No, her cheeks were not quite so sharp as the Protector’s, and her teeth not quite so big. She had lips the color of fresh berries, and her body was smaller and more willowy. Legs still tall as the day was long graced this young faery woman, though. The relation was there, and strong. It confused him so. Did cousin Lysander have another wife? No, Hermia would not have stood for it, and he didn’t remember Lysander having a blood brother that might have been this girl’s father, either.

 

Curtseying to the boobrie acting as her Prince, the aingeal chuckled and told the Fae that she wasn’t allowed to speak to strangers, but that it was all right because she’d walked with him once upon a dream. Weaving the tune in her soprano voice, the soulful harmony of her voice spurred him into action.

“I know what you’ll do…” she spun towards the bush.

He leapt out and grasped her reaching hand, and sang along with her. “…You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.”

 

“Oh! Oh!” she pulled her hand away as if she’d been burned, and pale green eyes haloed in blue stared at him as if he were danger personified. Yes, she was certainly Maleficent’s kin – but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The boobrie, for his part, clacked his beak in a chuckle.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, Aingeal,” he murmured, reaching forward to brush the silken skin of her hand again with his thumb.

 

She looked around, as if to dart for an escape. “It’s not that… It’s just, my Mother…”

“Is she here? What’s her name?” he asked rapidly while looking at the trees, wanting to puzzle out exactly who his ladylove was.

“N-nevermind that.” Her smile was like the moonshine on water – white, wide, and full of joy. “Why d’you call me an aingeal? Do I know you?”

“Of course you know me!” he joked. “Don’t you remember? I’ve met you before, once upon a dream. And I call you an aingeal, because you are one.” Twirling her under his arm in a pirouette, she snickered. He vowed that he’d never get enough of the sound of her laughter – that, and her singing. It made his heart ache, full of bliss and delight. They danced around the clearing, and she blushed beautifully after glancing at his state of undress before looking away several times.

 

In the distance, a female called loudly. His seraphim startled at the noise, and yanked her hand from his once again. “I have to go,” she stammered, picking up her skirts and basket quickly.

“But wait! When will I see you again?” he called.

“Oh, never!” she yelled back over her shoulder, flapping her wings to alight into the air.

Oh, no. That simply wouldn’t do. “Never? Meet me at the May Pole, later this afternoon?” he asked as loudly as he could.

She didn’t answer him so much as the insistent voice echoing across the Moors. “I’m coming!” she yelled, and flew out of sight.

 

* * *

 

Arriving back at the cottage, Maleficent and Luna were surprised to find a rather large contingent of Seelie faeries present. Holding her head regally, Maleficent entered the home to see Aurora pacing about in nervousness, and Isobel reading by the fire as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

 

Seated at the head of the table was her Aunt Titania, looking very much at home. “Well, you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence at half past nine, great grand-niece?”

Grasping tightly to Luna’s hand, Maleficent gave the girl a sideways glare to warn her to obey. Dipping into a very short and rude half-bow, the taller faery responded. “Good morning, your Majesty. To what do we owe the honor of your visit?”

 

Waving the back of her hand at her niece, Titania scoffed. “As if you’ve forgotten. You asked for our help in cleaning up your mess. We’re here now, and not a moment too soon; the royal Fae of this entire kingdom living here in this tiny hovel during the summers? Egads, Maleficent. There are only two bedrooms for the four of you? I’ve brought thirty high fae with me; half of them including my grandson are still in the Moors. How ever are we all going to stay here without expanding it?”

“Expanding it?” Aurora hissed incredulously behind the Queen, finally standing still to glare at the back of Titania’s head.

 

Sighing in annoyance, Titania pushed back from the table to stand eye to eye with Aurora. “Come now, my dear. The humans won’t see a thing, I assure you. All I need is… Hmmm, a door.” Snapping her fingers at the back wall, the kitchen’s Dutch door became an interior castle door, heavy wood with bronze fittings. Jerking her chin at her work, Titania looked pleased. “There, now. Much better, I’d say. I can come back and forth from my own castle by walking through my own lovely door.”

Aurora’s wings were fidgeting with disdain for the lack of respect shown her childhood home, but she didn’t say anything. The look of sheer indignation on her face said enough. Maleficent crossed the kitchen to grasp her hand and look pleadingly into the cerulean depths swirling in anger. Disarmed by her mate’s actions, Aurora stood down and glowered into the fireplace instead of directly at Titania.

 

Isobel watched the discourse over the edge of her book to hide her amused smile. The white haired Queen of the Seelie saw her amusement and walked over. “Ah, Isobel. You’ve grown more lovely with the years, I must say.” She reached down towards the young faery to draw her upwards, but did not tug. Merely holding her hand aloft was order enough to Titania, and she raised an eyebrow to show she meant Isobel to heel.

Smiling brightly, Bel stood and curtseyed. “Your Majesty.”

“Mmmmm,” Titania responded, looking at Isobel like she was inspecting a horse at the auction. “Very beautiful, indeed. Though, you’ve entirely ruined your disposition with books.” Snatching Bel’s book with her talons, she opened the volume before walking swiftly away to read it.

“Ah!” Isobel whined, reaching for her tome.

“What have we here, Princess? Dark, evil, twisted things – spells of revenge and painful, torturous death.” Titania spoke coolly before snapping the book shut. Gliding back to stare Isobel down, her face was that of intense displeasure. “Fancy yourself your Mother’s daughter, do you?”

Isobel gaped at her like a fish out of water.

“Indeed,” Titania hissed, and upended the book into the fireplace.

 

Screaming in anguish as she descended upon the flames with a poker, Isobel tried to lure the spellbook back from the burning embers, but it was no use. Luna scurried behind her sister and tugged at her shoulders gently.

“Bel, don’t touch it! It’s gone, darling one,” she begged, turning the sobbing girl into her arms and standing with her. Meeting Titania’s eyes, Luna nodded her acknowledgement of the Queen in her presence.

“And you must be the one that our dear Sola perished for, hmm? Luna dear…” Titania’s voice was icy. Suddenly, she tutted and cackled, “While you didn’t entirely inherit your Mother’s ungainly stature, you did unfortunately receive her ridiculously large lips and long legs. Though, I suppose you will do. Happy fourteenth name day to you, Princess.”

 

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Luna gritted her teeth into a smile.  

Ignoring Luna’s grimace and clapping her hands together in eagerness, Titania turned for the door. “So! Let us see this festival the humans have put together for the holy day! I am ever so curious.” As she exited, the contingent of her court followed into the sunlight.

 

Isobel looked forlornly at her book burning in the fireplace. Maleficent had sidled against the princess to pet her wings. Clearing her throat, she nodded towards the pages of bound paper curling into smoke. “Perhaps… perhaps it was for the best, Bel. I would have done the same if I’d known what you’d been hiding in that. Though, maybe I wouldn’t have burned it.”

Twisting away from Maleficent’s touch, Bel sniffled and stared into the flames again. “I’ll never forgive her,” she hissed.

 

* * *

 

 

Luna had snuck away from her mothers and sister, feigning hunger before ducking through the food stalls to look longingly at the tall birch trunk that the humans had erected on the top of the hill. They were dancing underneath it merrily, ducking and frolicking to weave the ribbons nailed to the top into a beautiful weave of colors.

 

A hand goosed at her wing, and she gasped. The male faery from the forest stood next to her, guffawing into his hand. “I’m so sorry, my lady. You were so distracted. I truly don’t mean to keep frightening you.”

“Then why do you insist on sneaking up on me constantly,” she teased, before turning the corner of her mouth up in a half-smile.

He placed his palm over his heart, making fluttering motions. “There it is – your smile. It slays me.”

 

Luna snorted. “Pfffft, well un-slay it good man. I am only a maiden this day, and how old are you? I don’t know of any fae men my age.”

Smirking at her sass, her beau replied, “Old enough to know that age is never a number to faery like us, and young enough to know how to treat a lass such as yourself. So, forty.”

Unable to help a chortle bubbling up and escaping, Luna shook her head. “You’re quite cheeky! Ah, I know age does not matter. I was betrothed to a man much older than you before, though looking back on it, I did not love him.” Darkness crept into her eyes before they became glassy.

 

“Now, now… If the fates would give me some help, I’d never allow that look to cross your face again. Whatever happened to your intended? I hope you boxed his ears like a right besom before chasing him off for it,” he stated, his white wings twitching in irritation at someone ever making his aingeal unhappy.

Coughing to hide her sob, Luna choked out her reply. “He died.”

Impossibly deep eyes the color of night sky searched hers in compassion. “In the battle? Good riddance, say I. Was he human?”

 

“I do not wish to speak on it more,” Luna snapped, turning to look at the May Pole again.

Taking gentle liberties, a hand crept to the side of her neck to brush her pulse point with the utmost tenderness. “I am sorry, Aingeal. Dance with me to forget him?”

 

“I… I don’t even know your name!” Luna exclaimed, but her heart was already halfway across the field, fluttering in her chest like the beat of a hummingbird’s wings.

“Alexander…” he whispered. Leaning in, his nose bussed hers. “I am Alexander…and you are?” His hot breath was so close to her lips.

“Luna. I am Luna.” She closed the distance to his lips gently, savoring the softness.

 

Smiling under the kiss, Alexander pulled back. “Shall we dance, my goddess fair? I shall write sonnets if you’ll only reward me with the sight of your sweet feet waltzing the grasses once more.”

“I don’t want to dance the May pole any more,” Luna murmured breathily. “Dance with me in the skies?”

 

* * *

 

Luna and Alexander returned to the copse of trees that hid the clearing with the Queen’s cottage well from prying human eyes. It was so very late – they’d flown fast and far, chasing each other in a merry game of hide and seek.

They had grabbed at each other to tickle as they passed in the air, swooping into twisting dives to show their skills of both of evasion and capture. Sooner rather than later, Luna had found she was alone in the air only to have Alexander hop lithely from a tree to tackle her, and she’d free-fall with him, smiling so widely her cheeks hurt.

 

_“A blessing on us this season! There be a pair of Fae doing a courting dance!” a farmer pointed his dirt stained hands to the skies. Crowds murmured around him, eyes staring into the sunset to see the specks of black dashing towards each other blithely through the skies._

_By the time Maleficent and Aurora turned around to peer into the skies, Luna and Alexander had darted back into the trees. “I don’t see anything. Where is Luna? I thought she was just going to get something to eat.” Aurora worried._

_Maleficent scowled. “Ridiculous. It was probably a pair of ravens or some such nonsense.” Her heart clenched anxiously as she looked ‘round the faire, searching for her missing daughter._

 

“Mother will be ever so cross with me, Alexander,” Luna whispered, squeezing on his hand to halt them just beyond the view of the cottage.

Grinning like a fool, Alexander stared down at her and cupped her cheek. “Do you not know that it’s a tradition for the mother of a faery man’s inamorata to beat at him soundly for stealing her daughter away? Nay, I am not scared. I look forward to it. Besides, my grandmother will probably have my head as well. I’ve not seen her in days, and she’s supposed to be here today or tomorrow.” He cracked his knuckles.

 

Luna’s lip trembled. “You don’t understand!” she hissed, shushing his lips with her fingertips.

Tugging her fingertips from his lips to kiss upon them, Alexander smiled wryly. “Are you trying to tell me I may be walking towards my certain doom, my sweet?”

 

“Yes,” Luna whimpered, both in response to his kiss and his question.

“Why will you not tell me your mother’s name? Is she a’feared in these parts? Is she Maleficent herself?” the Crown Prince of the Seelie joked.

 

“Yes,” a whisper as quiet as the wind was his answer.

“W-What?” Alexander took a step back, his wings flaring in skittishness.

 

Luna reached towards him, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you! I didn’t… I didn’t want you to know I was a Princess. All of my life, it’s all anyone has ever judged me for. They’ve never wanted me… for just being me.”

Running his hands through his hair and back down to scrub his face, Alexander laughed bitterly. “Well, I want you for you! You’re… you’re everything. My heart knew the moment I laid eyes on you that I’d perish without you in the world.”

 

He sighed amusedly, then. “I’d be angry at you if it wasn’t just so damned perfect. A Prince for a Princess… Fate is a sneaky wench. Though to be honest, I did not know Maleficent had a daughter named Luna. I only knew of Sola, bless her name… and Isobel. I thought perhaps you were a distant cousin of theirs.”

“What do you mean, a Prince?” Luna yelped, walking forward to tug at Alexander’s collar in shock and rebuff.

 

Pulling himself up to height and puffing himself to look large and courageous to steady Luna’s fears, Alexander wrapped his white wings around her in an embrace. “My lady, I am Crown Prince Alexander of the Seelie. I am pleased to declare you my mate, if you’ll have me. I will have at anyone who would keep us apart.”


	27. Garbh agus Titime (Rough and Tumble)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, here’s your long awaited chapter where Mamaleficent throws down. Have fun! 
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:  
> Devil’s Dance Floor, Flogging Molly  
> Road to Lisdoonvarna, Erutan  
> Empire, Shakira

* * *

 

**“Mothers are all slightly insane.” – JD Salinger**

* * *

 

 

Two glowing green eyes, gone a dangerous shade of yellow in the moonlight, stared out the front door of the cottage that creaked open slowly. There stood Maleficent, great inhales of breath flaring her nostrils as she attempted to calm herself enough to speak.

 

Aurora peeked around her right shoulder and pushed at her ribs. “Would you move, Maleficent! My ears aren’t as good as yours!” the Queen stage whispered.

Raising her voice to echo the clearing, the tall faery answered her petite mate and announced her presence to the secret lovers in the tree line. “Our absent daughter has arrived home, Aurora. She’s brought a heathen with her.” Indeed, her ears were far better than her mate’s; she’d heard most of the conversation between Luna and Prince Alexander of the Seelie while laying in wait to pounce upon her child for returning home so late.

“What?!” Aurora sputtered in confusion and shock, finally forcing her way around Maleficent, who stood like a pillar of stone inside the doorway. “Luna? Luna, are you out there?” she called angrily.

 

From behind Maleficent, a delighted titter sounded. Titania stood, dressed in her night shift and covered with a bed-robe. “Has my erstwhile grandson found Luna?” She snapped her fingers to a chair, which jumped to her hand. “Well, great grand-niece… move along and do your duty. I have my seat, if you’re inclined to take your time.”

Maleficent seethed. She’d stupidly hoped against all hope that the black specks the peasants had spotted in the skies were certainly not her own daughter and the late arriving Prince. She’d dared to hope that Luna had simply strayed to the Moors after the fair. She didn’t bother to hope further that the Prince’s thieving, stupid, ignorant, covetous, reckless, foolish, dim witted, daft fingers hadn’t summarily ‘napped her daughter away from her. Maleficent shook her head to clear her mind, foggy with insults. Still, they came to her unbidden.

 

Stepping into the moonlight, she glared into the trees where the illicit lovers stood. The Seelie envoys began to pour from the door with grins and waggling eyebrows, torches lit. Staking them in the ground, some of the spectators had the gall to bring out a drum and a pipe to cheer her on. She smirked at that. Yes, music to kill with.

Aurora tugged upon her gown’s arm. “You aren’t going to thrash her, are you?” She sounded worried, and her tone was disapproving. Ah, her mate was far too gentle when it came to… children who needed disciplining.

“No, no I won’t strike Luna,” she responded airily and pleasantly. Aurora winced, knowing that the tone was Maleficent’s most sarcastic way of hiding inherently malicious intent.

Inhaling deeply as a growl settled in her throat, Maleficent lifted her voice for all to hear. “Fie upon you, Alexander! You dare to steal my daughter? I shall have at you, you loggerheaded, hedge-born, mangy dog!”

 

“Mother!” Luna yelled from the trees, offense lighting her features in the firelight.

A group of the Seelie men, chuckling madly, collected Luna in their hands to drag her away from Alexander, all while patting the Prince on his shoulders in slaps of solidarity. Luna protested loudly, bawling like a newly born ewe. They hushed her with smiles and reminders about tradition, and deposited her into the arms of her Lady Mother Aurora.

 

Titania had planted herself regally upon the kitchen chair just outside the door. Her smile was cruel, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Just don’t do permanent damage to his face or important bits, Maleficent. Whack him good for me, my girl!”

Maleficent threw her arms back to lift her sleeves, and bid Alexander come from the trees with green-glowing hands. Her sideways glance was full of spitfire, and a grin of wicked joy spread across her face.

 

The Faery Prince walked out of the bushes and ivy, hands held out in a calming motion. “Now, cousin Maleficent… I simply could not resist. I didn’t know she was your daughter, but now that I do – it’s most evident that she’s retained all of your luminous beauty.”

Acting as if she did not hear him, Maleficent clawed her hands and advanced, screeching all the while. Alexander dodged and ran up a nearby tree to flip behind her. What he hadn’t seen whilst airborne was Maleficent’s smirk upwards as she spun outward and punched towards his gut as he alighted from his acrobatics.

 

With an oomph, the young male faery was brought to his knees, and Alexander rolled away through the grass with a groan. As he viewed his mate’s mother gliding towards him with insanity in her eyes, Alexander knew he’d have to get up, and quickly. The envoys were teasing and cheering both sides, but the shouting was drowned out by a loud buzzing when Maleficent roughly kicked the side of his head with her strong, bare foot.

As hearing returned and dizziness abated, his attention was drawn to Luna’s screaming as she was surrounded by the female Seelie and her other mother. Her sister Isobel was standing in the doorway, a look of pure pride towards her bessie of a mam.[1]

 

“Onair![2] For Luna’s honor, Maleficent!” the women chanted. “Cliù![3] For her dignity!” The men cheered him to get up and give her a smack, “For your mate, Alexander! Luna, your anam-charaid![4] Bolstered by his friends, Alexander shook off the punch and kick and fluttered back to standing.

Circling each other, Maleficent and Alexander threw several wing slaps at each other, and some slaps of the hands. He tried to be kind in the force of his throws – after all, it was a Mother’s right to beat him well. Maleficent was anything but gentle however, raking at his face and neck, her talons sliding after each nicely laid smack. She kicked out at his knees and legs, trying to upend him again. He ducked and dodged her quick movements, the twenty-year difference between the faeries becoming more evident as the fight wore on.

 

Maleficent paused in her advance to hold her side, which was in quite a stitch after Alexander had kicked out to block her. Heaving in pain, she masked it well and made it sound as if she was panting in anger. Sweat trickled down her brow. She raised it, making it appear as if she was waiting for Alexander to make his next move.

He did indeed come at her, but what he did surprised her. Picking her up bridal style, he swung her around, grinning like a buffoon. “Are ye’ done havin’ at me, you carnaptious[5] targe?”[6]

 

Throwing her head back, laughing with a smile wide enough to show her rear fang-teeth, Maleficent enjoyed for a moment the feeling of weightlessness brought by Alexander’s spinning. He began to chuckle as well, thinking that she was done biting at him. A fierce look crept into her face as she tucked her knees up, and he noticed. His laughter began to die quickly, but not as quick as her hips twisting towards his chest. Maleficent’s left knee came up with a flap of her wings, and her right knee met the other side of Alexander’s neck. She hefted her calves over his shoulders then, to sit on his neck. Wings beating to keep her aloft, her hands went into his hair, and she tugged at his scalp mercilessly.

“Oww! You’re a right witch, cailleach![7] I daresay, this is not a very proper fighting position!” Alexander yelped, grasping at her hands.

 

Maleficent cackled heartily in response. “And who has ever called me proper, Alexander? Evil, indeed. The devil? Certainly. Proper? Never!” Thrusting her hips forward, she gave a great heave of her wings towards the ground. It had its intended effect; Alexander toppled backwards, completely thrown off balance.  

They landed in a heap with Maleficent resting on his chest, thighs still grasping around his neck. Looking down upon the poor sod, she glared and tightened the hold of her thighs. Alexander gave a gasp as his airflow was cut off, and pulled on her velvet skirts in vain.   Unfortunately for the younger faery, Maleficent was his height, and approximately his weight. It was an even match, and she had the upper hand in her anger-fueled state.

 

Alexander’s vision began to fade at the corners of his eyes, and he knew that his cousin had won. Smacking at her thighs and tugging at the grass, he prayed for a moment that she might show enough mercy not to suffocate him to unconsciousness in front of his mate. It was emasculating.

Still, she wasn’t letting up her tight hold on his throat. Clasping both hands together in a mea culpa, Alexander beseeched Maleficent with his eyes.

A pleased look of surprise crossed her face. “Had enough then, young Alexander?” She finally loosened her chokehold, and wriggled backwards to sit on his ribs.

Alexander gulped air down his throat and wretched horrible coughs. Finally, his lungs stopped burning, and he looked to the stars in his embarrassment. “Mercy, Maleficent. I yield, màthair-chèile,”[8] he choked.

 

The women burst into jubilant shouts of victory as Maleficent stood up and walked over to them, her wings fluffed in pride. Reaching into the crowd for Luna, she recoiled upon seeing her daughter’s tear streaked face and baleful eyes. “Oh come now, Luna… I didn’t hurt him too badly. It was for your virtue, dear one.”

“My virtue is just fine, Mother,” Luna replied icily, sniffing indelicately as she wiped the tears from beneath her nose.

A chortle came from Maleficent’s lips as she looked pointedly at Luna’s state of semi-undress. “Your missing kirtle tells me otherwise.”

Looking rather mortified as the ladies tittered around them, Luna crossed her arms over her bosom. Though her underdress and stays covered her, she’d never felt more naked than under her Mother’s appraising eye in this very moment. “It… it got wet when we fell into the lake,” she whispered.

 

Aurora reached over and hugged Luna tight under an arm. “We understand dearest, it’s just…” a knowing smile graced her delicate features, which made Luna blush even further.

“Mm-hmm,” Maleficent pursed her lips as if to say something, but decided against it. Instead, she went inside and nodded to Aurora before heading up the stairs.

“Be serious, Luna… It got wet when you fell into the lake? You let yourself be pulled in?” Aurora cheeked, rubbing noses with her adorably red daughter.

Luna’s lower lip trembled, and she stared into the clearing where Alexander was being dusted off by friends, and congratulated for not dying. “We were just flying, Mama. Mother won the fight. Whatever does that mean?”

 

Titania took the opportunity to stand from her kitchen chair-throne, and smack lightly at Luna’s cheeks with the back of her hand in a patronizingly gentle manner. “It means silly girl, that until your wedding night, you will sleep inside and Alexander sleeps outside… In a tree! Like the heathen brute that he is!” She turned her head to shake it at Alexander, frowning.  

Isobel frowned as she turned to head inside, looking thoughtful. “I like sleeping in trees.” Aurora laughed and pinched Bel’s cheek.

“Ahh, Maimeó… be reasonable!” Alexander called.

Titania did not answer the boy, but herded the women folk inside with an upturned nose. “Come, ladies. The princess Luna needs to be put abed and honor guarded.”[9]

 

* * *

 

Maleficent stood in her bedchamber inside the cottage, dress half down as she palmed the yellowed bruise on her ribs. Hissing in pain, she rubbed at it. It was stubbornly deep, and while it had already healed quite a bit, she was sure it would be sore until morning at the very least.

Muttering about getting old, she tried to reach back to unlace the main seam, but it wrenched her ribs the wrong way and she hunched forward with a gasp. She began to spin in a circle; reaching for seams that were impossible to unlace without another person, becoming more and more irritated.

As such, she didn’t hear the gentle creak of the bedchamber door as Aurora slipped inside and stared at her vexations with amusement around the dressing screen. A giggle finally escaped the Queen, and Maleficent startled. “How long have you been standing there?”

 

“Only long enough to watch you chase your hem four times,” Aurora joked, while reaching forward to unlace the dress from the back. With each stitch undone, more and more of Maleficent’s lower back was revealed, and Aurora leaned in to kiss the tender flesh between wings while sliding her hands around the newly naked skin.

Maleficent snickered at the ticklish feeling. “What’s gotten into you, ‘Rora? Don’t we have other things to worry about, such as getting Luna to bed?”

Aurora gave a scintillating stare as she came around to face the taller faery, tugging the skirts of the gown down over sharp hipbones. “Isobel and Luna are sleeping with your Aunt tonight. There’s at least four other Fae womenfolk guarding the door, and besides… I doubt Alexander would attempt anything after receiving such… a… sound… beating.” Kisses to Maleficent’s collarbone punctuated her words.  

Stepping backwards, Aurora looked on the beauty that was her bhean chéile as she divested of her own gown. Frowning at the light yellow that crossed Maleficent’s ribs, she brushed fingertips lightly over the bruise that marred the silken skin.

 

“Don’t worry about that, mochroí,” Maleficent murmured as she pulled Aurora’s hand from the bruise to kiss it. “I have other worries. Luna is so very young... and Alexander is not precisely old, but it’s enough to bother me.”

Aurora sputtered a laugh and shook her head. “I know you’re growing older love, but you can’t quite forget that you were nearly forty when we told each other of our mutual love. I was but sixteen. Besides, you always tell me how the Fae mature more rapidly than humans do. So what does that make Luna in human years, any how? She looks more womanly than I did at eighteen.”

 

Huffing and narrowing her eyes in response, Maleficent grunted. “It’s not the same thing, not at all.”

“Oh, it’s not?” Aurora began to climb Maleficent like a tree, wrapping her legs around her back nimbly.

 “No.” Maleficent pouted playfully and looked away. “It is not. I waited until your...”

 

“I wish you wouldn’t have,” Aurora interrupted, her voice husky. Maleficent’s face whipped back, eyes wide with shock. Snickering, Aurora kissed the claret lips that were hanging slightly open.

 “Even more reason to worry! What if she’s an insatiable hellcat like yourself?” Maleficent mumbled behind the kiss.

 

Mildly irritated that her harranguing had gotten her nowhere, Aurora goosed her mate’s rear firmly.

 “Ack! ‘Rora, I ask again... what’s gotten into you?” Maleficent pulled back.

 

Eyes blazing feverishly, Aurora bit her bottom lip seductively before responding. “I’ve seen you fight before, but tonight was different. There was a playful element to it, and a joy. You were fighting for our daughter’s honor, and it’s never made me want to steal yours more.”

 “Ah,”Maleficent’s response was slightly wary as she lifted an eyebrow, but then she leered. “You desire me?”   It had been so long since their last coupling, and with Aurora’s recent sensitive moods, she’d had to be careful in her advances.

“Well, don’t make me beg then!” Aurora bounced up and down, wrapping her legs tighter. “Kiss me before I die for the wanting!”

 

A crooked, sinful smile graced Maleficent’s face as she watched Aurora bounce. “But I like you begging,” she whispered, as sweetly as sugar and as deadly as hemlock. Rushing forward, she pinned Aurora to the wall and began to suckle the pale neck exposed to her. Her mate mewled and grasped at her shoulders at the movement and contact. Pausing, she leaned forward and intoned breathily into Aurora’s ear, “Do it again.”

“Please. Pleasepleaseplease, love me. Love me, now...” Aurora whimpered.

 

Supplicated enough, Maleficent hummed against a cheek, “As my Queen commands.” Attacking the dewy soft lips of Aurora with ferocity, her hair began to stand on end. She wasn’t sure she could be gentle tonight, and wasn’t sure she wanted to be. No matter – Aurora shuddered and writhed beneath her in pleasure as her lips trailed kisses and bites down a honeyed expanse of neck, quickly followed by a shoulder and then breasts.

 Aurora moaned, her hands entwining into long mahogany tresses to tug. “Bed, please.”

Maleficent either didn’t hear her, or was purposefully ignoring her request. She brushed thumbs lightly over the edge of the sharp ears hidden in the dark hair, and beamed when she felt a trembling beneath her hips. “Bed, Maleficent,” she compelled sweetly.

 

She whooped when she was quickly twirled around and deposited on the cushy mattress, and scooted up towards the pillows. A shiver ran down her skin and heat pooled in her belly as she looked down to the end of the bed, where Maleficent paced like a prowling Highland wildcat. As Aurora giggled, the faery’s eyes twitched and glowed, and she leapt on her lover. The Queen shrieked delightedly as sharp teeth nipped again at her neck, but the sounds quickly became cries of satisfaction as Maleficent’s hands descended down her belly to meet her wet heat, and fingers slipped inside.

 

[1] Bessie of a mam – An ill-tempered, short fused mother.

[2] Onair – Honor

[3] Cliù – Reputation

[4] Anam-charaid – Soul mate, literally “soul friend.”

[5] Carnaptious – slang, meaning irritable and quarrelsome

[6] Targe – domineering woman

[7] Cailleach – old woman

[8] Màthair-chèile – Mother in Law

[9] Honor Guard (Maids of Honor) – This now-common wedding tradition dates back to the tradition of ladies maids that would guard a bride-to-be from kidnapping by the Fair Folk. They would often dress in the same gowns to confuse the Fae attempting the ‘napping.


	28. Leth-aon (Half of One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The title of this chapter is Leth-aon, which is the Gaelic word for Twin. It literally translates to “Half of One,” as the ancient Celtic peoples believed that twins shared one soul. We have quite a few new followers on this tale – don’t be shy, readers! Let me know what you’re thinking. Reviews are given Scottish Breakfast Tea warm with milk and honey.
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> Music Box, Erutan
> 
> Scalliwag, Gaelic Storm
> 
> Transylvanian Lullaby, Erutan
> 
> Missing, Evanescence

****

**“Mum used to say we were the same soul split in two and walking around on four legs.**

**It seems unnatural being born together and then dying apart.”**

  
**― Melodie Ramone, _After Forever Ends_**

 

* * *

 

 

Hushed conversation met her ears and Luna groaned, rolling over on the lumpy country pallet. A week had passed with Isobel sharing her bed, and her back was sore. She’d never wished for a supportive tree branch or her firmly stuffed castle bed more.   How was it that Mother and Mama had longed for the spring so they could sleep in these atrocities they liked to call a proper mattress? With her wriggling, she sunk down into the middle and nearly became swallowed by the pillows and blankets with an “Eek!”

 

Giggling came from the dressing table where Isobel sat, dressed in her stays and chemise, but hidden by her curled and fluffed-up wings. “Are ye’ okay, Lu? I know you hate the nest.”

“Aye, the nest,” Luna huffed, thrusting herself upwards with a push of her wings. “A sorry piece of furniture if ever there was one.”

 

Isobel remembered wistfully the story of the feather stuffed paillasse. “It… It was the first bed Mother made for Mama, when she was with child. I don’t think she knew how to build a proper human bed, but she tried. I even think there are some of her molted feathers in there. When we became four, the Rowan got crowded, so the nest came here for me and…” her voice choked to near silence. “At any rate, it’s not like we could move to the cave at the gem pool.”

“No, I suppose not,” Luna rose up to stretch, fanning her wings and picking at any that needed arranging. “Were people talking outside our door a moment ago?”

 

Isobel’s teal eyes roved to the door, back to the nest, and back to the mirror in front of her. “No,” her answer was short and curt.

‘How strange,’ Luna thought. Speaking aloud, she cleared her throat. “We’re ye’ talking to yourself again?”

Feathers ruffled as wings curled more tightly around Bel, further blocking Luna’s sight of her sister in the mirror. “No,” came her surly reply.

 

Sighing and shaking her head, Luna pulled on a clean chemise and tucked her stays under her bosom, tightening the garment quickly. Isobel would vacillate between moods so quickly these days; it was a wonder her head didn’t spin upon her very shoulders. She still dressed in black for mourning, and would often go a week or so without simple ablutions such as bathing or brushing her hair in a consistent show of it. Though she would apply scented oils to smell better, she just layered on her glamour. By the end of the week, Bel would often appear as a stoat gone white for winter with their black and beady eyes.

“How about we match dresses today, hmm?” Luna queried the quivering wings across the room. “Shall we wear blue, or pink?”

“Black,” came the disembodied voice, small and child-like. “Make mine black.”

 

Luna snorted, and ignored the request. “How about we wear dark green? It’s Bealtaine, for Goddess sake Bel. We must bring joy to the Moors, not sorrows.”

Isobel hopped swiftly up from her stool and growled at Luna before just as quickly masking her face into apology and stepping back.   “I’m… I’m sorry, Lu.”

Grasping her chest and stumbling backwards before catching herself, Luna panted at the sight of her sister that she’d not seen, having been hidden by wings since she’d risen. Eyes had been kohled to the point of madness, dreary with lack of sleep. Red specks flecked Bel’s once beautiful teal eyes, the blue rims nearly swallowed by a growing black edge. Her lips were even darker than Mother’s on a bad day.   Hair was askew and beginning to knot, creating strange tendrils that drooped flat. Atop of the shock of wheat-white knots rested a diadem, but the bronze was sorry in its need for polishing. Or was it Sola’s diadem? The twins had so many matching things…

 

Steadying herself, Luna reached out towards the sister that she’d grown so close to over their time at the Unseelie court. That innocent, trusting girl-child seemed so very different than this snarling, wild, chaotic young woman. “Bel, sweet sister. You must come out of this melancholy, or it will eat you alive. I know it’s hard – I am prone to the sadness from time to time as well…”

Isobel’s face twisted, ugly in anger and despair. “You don’t understand. None of you understand.” She grabbed a black kirtle with red laces and threw it over herself, knotting the sides quickly.

“So help us to understand!” Luna cried, throwing her hands up in frustration.

 

“You all just cry a bit, and move on. Boo-hoo! Poor Sola, she’s gone and died for us. Even Mama is out of mourning, now!” Isobel yelled back. Luna began to interrupt her, but Bel glared and continued. “No, don’t deny what our ears heard last night,” she seethed. “You… You go and decide to get yourself a mate, falling head over heels in one day! Now, you have love. Mother and Mama have love. _I am alone_. I’ll be _forever_ alone! My… my soul is rent in two, and you cannot fathom the agony!” Her hands flew to her hair, tugging at the tendrils that escaped her untidy chignon.

Heaving the heavy wooden door to their room open, Isobel ran down the stairs and out the front door, sobbing all the while.   Protesting yelps and squawks echoed from the kitchen and sitting room and up to Luna’s ears. Her eyes watered, and hot tears of shame began to roll down her cheeks as she sat down on the nest once more, wings trembling.

 

Their mother stomped up the gable stairs to enter the attic room, eyes wide with worry. “Are you quarreling with Isobel?” Staring back down the stairs she had just come up, Maleficent shuddered. Turning back to gaze at Luna, her face was confused. “Did she roll out of bed into a dress and flee, or is that the style nowadays?”

Tapping her fingers on her crossed arms, Luna looked pondering. “She wasn’t so much arguing with me as she was screaming at me. I could take Alexander with me to go and find her. He’s an excellent tracker.”

“He is, is he?” Maleficent began to smirk, but it fell to a sad half-smile. “I heard some of why she was upset… Do you really think taking him with wouldn’t rub salt in her wounds?”

Luna sighed and pulled a salmon colored dress over her shift, and mumbled, “I don’t quite care.”

 

Maleficent twirled her finger in a silent request to assist, clearing her throat as Luna spun.

She began to deftly lace the dress under wings so like her own, and ran her hands gently to pat the fluffiness down. How many times had she missed doing this? How many times had these wings been soothed by another hand? And now, Alexander sought to replace her hands, which had so briefly belonged here.

 

Luna looked over her shoulder at the odd feeling, perplexed. “Mother? Are you all right?”

Maleficent shifted out of her daughter’s view, so that the young woman couldn’t see her glassy eyes, or gulping throat. “Fine!” she trilled, but the tone sounded overdone and shallow. Looking at the door, she saw her escape. Turning to go down the stairs, she called back at Luna, “Go on! Go take your beau and find your sister in the Moors.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Alexander and his beloved shouted their delight as they broke the tree line to soar upwards into the skies.   Luna had run out the front door, yelping for him to run, all while laughing and being chased by a… ludicrously mirthful Maleficent. It had been in stark contrast to the storm cloud of a Princess that had run out earlier, and hissed as she launched into the air. Frankly, Alexander was even happier that he had found Luna and fallen in love with the beauty of her face and soul: if he’d had to marry the blonde harpy, he was sure he would have shriveled to death in fear of his wedding night.

 

Swooping in spirals together, his hands clasped even tighter under Luna’s belly to bring her tighter beneath him. She turned her face over her shoulder, a slightly disapproving smirk spreading on her pert lips. “How am I supposed to flap my wings if you hold me so closely?” she yelled over the winds whipping past their ears.

“Fold them, darling! Let me be our wings!” he shouted back, a mischievous grin lighting his features.

Rolling her eyes, Luna did as he asked, but kept her arms spread. “Apparently, before she received her wings, Mother would fly Mama this way. It always seemed very undignified!”

Alexander shook his head. “Your Lady Mother Aurora would clutch to Maleficent like a barnacle. I’ve seen it when I was a wee lad; she’s afraid of heights! I think that ‘tis why her wings misbehave so. She won’t trust them!”

A fair assessment, Luna agreed and turned her face back downwards. “D’you trust me, Luna?” Alexander asked. She nodded vigorously without looking back, knowing he would see the movement.

 

“Well then, here we go!” he bellowed. Luna felt herself be jerked nearly vertical, and if it were possible, she would have swore that Alexander’s wings extended further. They beat against the air thermals in a forceful cadence, which matched her runaway heart.   Higher and higher they rose into the heavens, until they finally broke through the cloud cover. Ice feathered on Luna’s eyelashes, and her breath fogged as she cried out in awe.   She’d experienced this with her Mother before, but never encased in the strong and warm touch of a lover, and never without paying attention to her own flying.

“Look there!” his deep voice was excited as he pointed to the sea. “Shall we swoop along the waves before we find Isobel?”

“They do look deliciously blue today,” Luna bit her lip. “But, we should…”

Alexander thrust her forward in his hands to give her room to extend her wings, and the end of her thought was lost. “You’ll have to dive a bit to catch a foil, a ghrá geal,”[1] he reminded her.

Luna’s eyebrows waggled daringly as she unfurled her wings and tucked her arms back to her chest. Alexander leaned his face forward to steal a quick kiss to her smiling lips.

“Race you there, mo bhean cróga,”[2] he murmured lovingly before dropping her from the skies.

 

Luna plummeted quickly, dropping hundreds of feet with her wings held aloft and behind her. Finally feeling the resistance of a thermal on her feathers, she thrust them out to glide with a cry of triumph.  

She felt and heard Alexander near her, but did not turn. The ocean’s waves were wild today, and the breezes created by their movement was crisp, cool, and salty with mist.   They raced along the edge of the beach, dipping and twisting to duck larger curls of water that came up to fold over in foamy white.

This – this was what her life should have been, rolled up into one moment. Surrounded by her mothers’ love, daring to fall from the heavens with her soul mate, racing amongst the rollicking waves the way Isobel had described she and Sola used to do as younger girls; not holed up in a bedchamber with a heavy enchanted lock. Luna’s heart burst with the overwhelming bliss of it.

 

Twirling as she dashed along, she came up to face her advancing Prince. Reaching for his arms, she grasped him tightly and folded her wings in as he caught and nuzzled her, cheek to cheek. “ _Liom glacadh_ _do thogra_ _phósadh_ ** _._** I accept your proposal,” she whispered to his ear.

Alexander’s face exploded with wonder and joy, and he gulped at trying to find the words to reply. Finally, his tongue settled on “ _Tá tú mo gach rud._ You are my everything now.”

 

* * *

 

 

Fluttering into the heart of the Moors, hand in hand with her beloved, Luna scanned the skies and foliage for her sister. She didn’t see any bright patches of white blonde hair, nor the telltale signs of the water nymphs that liked to comb Bel’s long, lustrous hair after washing it. Of course, she hadn’t come to wash it lately.

“Isobel! Bel, where are you?” she called, hands cupped around her mouth to help the sound carry through the glens and valleys.  

 

Ever observant as he was, having been trained to track both Seelie and Unseelie Fae through his travels, Alexander merely pointed at a grouping of trees and vines about a quarter mile away. “Look, darling. See where the Moors are sad? The grasses are limp, and the air is dark and cooler, forcing the iridescent plant life to glow before dark. I have a feeling if we follow this trail, we’ll find Isobel. You said she was unhappy, yes?”

“Yes, she was positively dubhach[3] this morning, and has been for some time,” Luna whispered, walking with Alexander along the darkened path. Even the small fae creatures here looked despondent, and pointed along the trodden grasses as if to guide them.

 

After hiking quite a distance, a looming burnt-out castle keep was in view. Luna looked positively baffled, her eyes meeting Alexander’s in question.

“It looks like the remains of the Highland Seelie keep. The workmanship is not human, but it’s been abandoned a very long time. See the moss that grows, and the saplings in the entryway?” he murmured quietly, looking sad at the state of disrepair. “It would have been beautiful in its prime.”

“Was there ever a Queen or King of the Highland Moors? Mother’s never told me as such...” Luna wondered aloud.

Alexander’s hand went behind his neck, and rubbed there. He was thinking hard, but there seemed to be more questions in his eyes than answers. “Yes, there was a long time ago… Your grandparents, err Maleficent’s parents? I believe their names were Lysander and Helena?”

“Hermia,” Luna corrected. “Helena was her sister, but she changed her name to Ulla when she became a faery to marry Kinloch.”

 

“I remember now! Ulla had a human lover when she was…well, human! Demetrius or some other, his name was. Grandmother was truly jealous of the sisters’ beauty, and she liked to play tricks on them. ‘Twas one of the many reasons Grandfather Oberon turned Grandmother’s human lover into a donkey.” Alexander slapped at his thigh with a hoot.

“Truly?” Luna’s eyes lit up with that valuable piece of information. “Is that where you came from, you Halfling?”

“Aye, grandson of an ass – that’s me,” he cheeked back at her. “Though, truly… I consider Grandfather Oberon my true daideo.”[4] Nodding thoughtfully, he rubbed his chin with a thumb. “I assume this is where your Mother would have grown up had her parents not been struck down by the humans. I don’t recall ever having visited Kinloch and Ulla here – the pain of what happened here must have been too much of an offense. They were horrible to your Mother, y’know. It’s why she has horns. Ulla cursed her with them, to wear for one hundred years.”

 

“Why ever would she do such a thing?” Luna gasped, tears springing from her eyes as she held her throat in dismay.

Alexander shrugged. “Why do any of the old biddies curse as they do? Boredom? Jealousy? Hatred? Faeries feel deeply, and quickly… you know that. ‘Tis not any wonder why they act rashly or cruelly; usually, it’s some stupid offense or another. As I recall the story, your Mother was a right cheeky bastard. Though, the end to that judgment is still out there,” he chuckled.

Luna smacked him lightly with a wing, and smirked. “Don’t talk about Mother that way. She’s to wear the horns for forty more years or so? Maybe she won’t be so miserable when they’re not weighing her head down any longer. Better yet, maybe she’ll keep them!”

Alexander nodded, still in a joking mood. “Perhaps. They have grown to be a part of her, eh?”

Groaning and rolling her eyes at his pun, Luna pushed at him with a palm. “Well, the trail leads to here. Maybe Bel is inside?”

 

Behind them, a cold and indifferent voice spoke. “No, I was earlier. Now, I am here.”

“Gods, woman!” Alexander exclaimed, jumping away from the tree where Isobel had spoken. She hung upside down, legs folded over the lower tree branch.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I spent the better part of the afternoon in the castle, but the feelings inside are too strong,” Isobel stated matter-of-factly. She smiled adoringly at the burnt out hulk, then. “We’ve come to an understanding, Castle and I. I think I shall stay here for a few days and see if I can’t clear the bleakness out.”

 

“Isobel,” Alexander reached out cautiously, as if Bel were a frightened pup ready to bite. “You… you can’t take away the desolation from an event as horrible as what happened to Lysander and Hermia. The humans… the humans were brutal in what they did to your Máthair-Mhór.[5] The stories…” he winced, looking to the skies. “Your Athair Mór fell upon the iron blades, fighting for his wounded bride.”

“How positively tragic,” Isobel grinned, swinging up to sit upon the branch prettily.

“You smile when I tell you of your grandparent’s demise, girl? I tell you of your grandmother’s violation, and your grandfather’s sacrifice and you cheek at me? What wagon have you been knocked off?” Alexander stared in awe, more than slightly insulted.

 

“Sacrifice…” Isobel rolled the word in her mouth as if she was tasting it. “That must be why the melancholy here speaks to me.”

Luna stepped forward, reaching for the blonde girl up the tree. “Come, Bel… Let’s go home, and Mother can fix it. Mama will help her, you’ll see. Mama helped Mother through her darkest days… They will help you back to the light. You just need time, love.”

Isobel didn’t respond right away, spreading her legs out like she meant to get comfortable. “Fix me? Oh no, Luna… There will be no fixing. Don’t you see? I’m only half of one, now. Half of me is gone, and the half that remains is blackened, much like the soot on those stones there,” she pointed to the keep. “I shan’t be coming home. The dark never frightened me anyway. It was always Sola who needed a night candle when she was a wee girl.”

 

  
 

 

 ** **[1]****A Ghrá Geal – My bright (shining) love/intended. Some use it as “girlfriend/boyfriend.”

[2] mo bhean cróga – My brave woman.

[3] Dubhach – depressed, gloomy, moody

[4] Daideo – Grandpa, Gramps (affectionate term.)

[5] Athair Mór/Máthair Mhór – Proper names for Grandfather and Grandmother, if one is speaking of the subject in conversation. Alexander did not know Luna and Isobel’s Grandmother, therefore he is using the formal title instead Maimeo/Daideo.


	29. Toirmeasc (Forbidden)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The Celts believed in a separation of the Soul (which would go on to live in the Afterlife,) and the Spirit, which often is the memory or etching of a person’s soul on places, nature, and things – oftentimes during great sorrows or emotion such as battlefields, or cemeteries. A tree that grew on a grave was particularly holy, and it was forbidden to cut the tree down.
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> Walking in the Air, Chloe Agnew
> 
> Lament for a Frozen Flower, Secret Garden
> 
> Higher than Hope, Nightwish

**“Songs and smells will bring you back to a moment in time more than anything else.**

**It's amazing how much can be conjured with a few notes of a song or a solitary whiff of a room.**

**A song you didn't even pay attention to at the time, a place that you didn't even know had a particular smell.”**

**  
― Emily Giffin, _Something Borrowed_**

* * *

 

Maleficent stood in the garden of the cottage, looking at the waning moon. Luna and Alexander had finally returned from the Moors, having said they were lost for hours on end trying to get back from the Forbidden Mountain. Her jaw clenched as her stomach roiled. There was a _reason_ that the castle in the Moors was forbidden, and Isobel had set herself up quite nicely in the one place that Maleficent would never like to see again. The emotions of what had occurred there fifty-eight years ago would never leave; their intensity etched and crumbling on the very walls in rusty stains of blood long dried.

Surprisingly, when Titania had learned of where Isobel was, she’d offered to go in Maleficent’s stead. She was vexed, and actually sympathetic. At remembering that, a burble of manic humor threatened to make itself known through Maleficent’s lips, but she swallowed it.

 

_‘No child should go where her parents were slain,’ the elder Faery Queen had whispered, grasping tightly to Maleficent’s arm. ‘It is madness, woman. You may be six decades, but I remember you as the wee babe saved on that fateful day. The echoing enchantments will not frighten me.’_

_Maleficent had thrown off Titania’s coddling hand. ‘I am not afraid, Great Grand-Aunt. I have been before, some forty-odd years ago.’ She’d steadied her breath then, not willing to speak of precisely why she’d gone. ‘I thought I might die, so I went to die. I survived the night, somehow.’_

_‘Mother, please! Send the envoys and the Queen… Bel is so confused, I’m afraid she’ll put up a fight,” Luna had entreated._

 

“I won’t let you go alone,” Aurora stated bravely, embracing her mate from behind and burrowing her face into the fluff along the top edge of a wing. “I will accompany you, a thaisce.[1] The darkness may have a hold on Bel, but I won’t allow it to take you, too. We must be ready to help her.”

Turning to take Aurora into her arms, Maleficent felt bolstered by the love and devotion in her Queen’s words. “It is a far flight from here, ‘Rora. The shortest way is to go ‘round the Moors’ perimeter, close to the northern villages.”

Aurora’s lips pressed together in determination, and she met Maleficent’s gaze. “I will bear it, and my wings will behave. I can feel it.”

 

“Stay close to me? If there’s trouble, I’ll need to catch you,” Maleficent murmured, running her hands down Aurora’s sleeves to clasp her hands and squeeze. She truly wished Aurora weren’t choosing tonight to be so courageous, if only to shelter her love from the atrocities she would see, and feel. The humans of King Henry’s time were cruel, nasty, and brutish. They did not spare her cherished Moir or Ayr[2] any pains.

Aurora seemed to read between what Maleficent said, and what she was trying to convey. “I shall stay close to you,” _and catch you too_ she replied, willing her mate to see she was not fearful with a look of fierceness.

 

“Please, I beg of you, my niece… Don’t do this.” Titania called from the door, her arm around a crying Luna. “Don’t venture inside. If Isobel’s gone inside for the night, she’ll be craicéailte… a complete doo-lally!” [3]

“Forty odd years of indifference towards me, and you curse my children. Now I am over half a century, and you seek to treat me as a child?” Maleficent bit back, her temper rising.

“I cursed them because I cared! I wanted to keep them safe from you!” Titania hissed, and then caught herself. She reached out to the tall, horned faery before putting two fingers to her own lips in a gesture of peace. “I never… I never thought I’d see the day when your evil ways would change. I thought you’d captured Aurora’s mind and heart with magick, not love. You’ve never even married!”

Maleficent turned her back to the door, her hands curling into fists. Aurora glared at the Queen of the Seelie with resentment, and spoke for the both of them. “We need to collect Isobel now, my Queen Titania. Take care of Luna if it will ease your regrets.” Turning to tug Maleficent’s hand open, she grasped the pale fingers like a lifeline and set her shoulders. “Come darling; we fly.”

* * *

 

 

Hopping upwards, Aurora’s wings for once seemed to agree with her request – boldly hefting air beneath them to bring her into the air, trailing Maleficent behind her, their hands still firmly ensconced.

After flying away from the clearing a good ten miles, Maleficent came abreast to Aurora. Her larger wings were better for gliding, but she tried to aid as much air upwards to keep the younger woman aloft. Looking upon her Queen, her face was a picture of wonder and pride at her tiny mate. For one so small, she was full of fire.

Extending her arm, she pointed over to the human village that lay to the northwest border of the Moors, a good fifty miles in the distance. It was just after dusk, and the candles burned brightly in the windows of the farms and cottages. “See there, Aurora? We’ll follow the border closely from there,” she instructed.

 

Aurora did not answer, but grunted as she twitched her shoulders. Her wings flapped harshly against the cooler air as they rose higher into the skies. She hadn’t yet grown used to catching thermals as they came.

“Glide, sweet one. Like this…” Maleficent twisted so that she was belly up to Aurora, her wings spread straight. “Like you’re floating in water.”

“This is completely unfair, Malle! Why d’you get such big wings?” Aurora panted, twisting and wobbling into a sideways glide. Gliding on her back could just _wait,_ she’d decided.

“I suppose it’s because I’m so tall. I don’t rightly know,” Maleficent smirked. “Your wings suit you – they are dainty, like their owner. Obstinate, willful…”

“Your mother was not dainty!” Aurora huffed.

 

Maleficent threw her head back with a chortle. “Indeed, she was not. You should be glad they didn’t grow to full size on you when she gifted them in _Tír na nÓg_. They’d trail behind you like some sort of feathery cape!”

Aurora’s eyes sparkled. “Your wings drag,” she teased.

“The better to herd our children into obeisance, I surmise,” came the sarcastic reply.

 

As the two Queens floated in the moonlit sky, the people far below that were saying their evening prayers or corralling livestock for the night shielded their eyes to look upon the sight. Children ran from their homes, cheering and pointing. Watchful mothers hushed them and lifted them into their arms, both for protection and for an excuse to gaze upwards for a moment.

Once they’d realize that the two faeries were their Queens, they’d call on the winds after them: “Fastyr mie, ard Ooashlid eu![4] _Good evening, Majesties!”_ It would be rude not to acknowledge a Fae at all, lest they take offense; let alone a royal one. Though she didn’t understand the Northern dialect, Aurora turned her face down to wave her arm wide in greeting to those who called to her. Without thinking too hard on the idea of flying, her wings took over and soared gently through the air.

 

Maleficent bit her lip and looked keenly on the beauty of Aurora flying uninhibited. Her mate’s golden curls swept behind her, twisting and furling in the currents. A rosy glow had come to Aurora’s cheeks from the chilly air and the exertion of flight. She was utterly magnificent, and striking in her loveliness. Unable to contain herself, Maleficent reached out for Aurora and curled her wings around, taking them into a spin along a particularly warm foil just beneath a cloud.

Surprised, Aurora squeaked in glee. Her wings knew to buffet against Maleficent’s to create a circle of feathers around them, and she thanked them wordlessly in her mind. As the cloud’s vapors came about them, bits and pieces of her flying partner were obscured and revealed at different moments. Droplets of water caught against Maleficent’s face, creating a dewy radiance. Aurora’s heart burned with the need to kiss her mate, and her wings straightened to glide forward to do so.

 

It was Maleficent’s turn to be surprised, now. She smiled behind the gentle kiss, tugging softly on Aurora’s lower lip with her teeth. Their happiness could not last forever; looking downwards, she realized they had nearly reached the part of the Moors’ border where they’d need to enter on foot to come at the castle keep from the front, rather than the rear.

“We need to land soon, mo stóirín.[5] Pull up a bit, and begin to flutter. We’ll float down easily to our feet…together.”

* * *

 

Aurora allowed Maleficent to lead once they were on foot, though it was hard to do anything else when the taller faery tucked her behind and under a wing with every twist and turn in the dark pathway.   Huffing with impatience, the Queen pushed the downy soft appendage from her shoulder once more. “Malle, can we stop playing Capture the Queen with each other, and simply walk?”

A half-smile came to Maleficent’s face, but her eyes were hard. Aurora could see her pulse was fast; the taller woman’s veins throbbing slightly in her neck as it craned around, looking for…something; a landmark, perhaps?

The further they went down the cobbled pathway, the more uneven it became. Aurora was astounded to even see a stone-laid path in the Moors, but then again she’d never been this deep into the forests and mountains. They were so far north of the southern border she was used to; it was no wonder to her now why Luna and Alexander had taken the better part of a day to fly back to the cottage. They were high in the mountain range, and the air was brisk. It smelled like snow, even in the beginning of Bealtaine.

 

“Where are we, precisely?” Aurora asked, looking around and smelling the sea, though she couldn’t see it outright.

“The northern border of the Moors is near the beaches that the humans launch west to southwest to reach the Isle of Arran,” Maleficent responded quietly, pushing through overgrowth.

Bursting through one last bit of forest, they came upon the large castle keep. The cobbled footpath turned into a bridge over marshes, and to the rear of the castle, Aurora could see the mountain head downwards into the valley and lakes of the Southern Moors. It was the _perfect_ view of the entire kingdom.   Not paying attention to her surroundings in her awe, Aurora stumbled forward only to be dragged back by Maleficent’s sharp talons.

 

Maleficent’s face was apologetic, and she soothed Aurora’s wrist with her fingertips. “I don’t want to enter unless it’s absolutely necessary, Aurora. You might not comprehend precisely what I’m describing, but there were enchantments placed on this castle after… after the battle. It’s to keep the spirits inside from wreaking havoc on those outside, and to keep humans from ever entering again. Unfortunately, we’ll feel the enchantments too.”

“Well, then… Shall we call for her? Isobel! I-so-bel!” Aurora cupped her hands around her mouth, and her voice echoed through the breezy night air.

There was no answer except the wind through the grasses.

 

Shuddering, Maleficent took a step towards the castle. Turning back, she beseeched Aurora with her eyes. “No matter what you see or feel, ‘Rora… They’re only memories, moments in time frozen by spells to frighten people who enter. They’re not really happening _now_. The castle just…remembers.”

Saddened that this beautiful place was tainted with such things, Aurora frowned. “Is it permanent?”

“I do not care to find out,” Maleficent stammered, somewhat angrily. “I shall never reside here, and neither shall my family.”

“I understand,” Aurora soothed, rubbing at Maleficent’s shoulder with her hand before taking the arm closest to her. “Let’s go inside before we lose our nerve.”

 

Aurora’s normally staid, serious, and fearless mate seemed to shrink back with every step forward, her face turning away from the looming keep. “I am not afraid,” Maleficent would whisper every few seconds. It was as if she were trying to convince herself, rather than Aurora.

Seeking to distract her, Aurora commented offhandedly, “Were you afraid forty-some years ago?”

Maleficent stopped, wings bristling. Her response was so quiet, it sounded like the winds that sang through the trees. “No, I was not afraid. I had come to let death take me. Death laughed in my face. Then, I was angry.”

“Feel angry then… Anything but afraid,” Aurora cooed, tugging the wide-eyed faery forward towards the open door, and through it.

 

Instantly, Maleficent’s hands flew to her ears as if to block out a noise, but there was none. Curious, she lowered her palms slowly and brushed the front of her gown. Toeing slowly up the entryway stairs, she came to stop by an open room to the right, the roof long gone. Here, she began to pant heavily.   “Isobel?” she croaked, a tear escaping an eye to roll down her cheek.

Pursing her lips in resolve, Aurora walked swiftly into the room. She only heard Maleficent’s warning in hindsight, a brush in the back of her mind that was currently being assaulted with screams.

 

_Shouts, cries, and shrieks_ ; _a wee babe calling for her Moir, screeching plaintively. A woman yelling: “Robin, take her out the back way… Please!”_

_Aurora blinked rapidly, not believing her eyes. Hermia tugged a toddling Maleficent from her skirts, trying to reassure the tiny faery that she would be safe with Robin and Talise. Outside, horses whinnied and fires blazed. Fear and loathing blanketed her heart._

 

Gasping, she came to as she felt herself being snatched from the room. In the hallway, she realized that she’d been pulled into Maleficent’s lap. Maleficent was trembling beneath her, eyes glazed in what could only be the memory they’d shared.

“My room…” A gasp, and a cry escaped the red lips. “I can’t go past here. I never have.”

Hot slashes of tears poured down Aurora’s cheeks as she stared down the long hallway. “Isobel! Are you here? Please, Bel!” she called desperately.

Down the gallery, a whimper sounded.

 

Bolstered by the noise, Aurora climbed out of Maleficent’s lap to crawl towards it. “Bel! Bel, it will be all right… We’re here!”

“Aurora, no!” Maleficent implored, reaching out to grasp an ankle. “Please…” she whispered, her eyes skittish.

Tugging her ankle from Maleficent’s hand, Aurora looked back. “We promised we wouldn’t separate. I am here, darling one. _We have to get Isobel and get out_ ,” she commanded.

 

Groaning and biting back a sob, Maleficent stood up and pulled Aurora with her. They crept down the passage, clutching each other tightly. As they came to a large room that might have been a receiving hall, its only furnishings two burnt chairs upon a dais, an overwhelming need to boak came upon her.

Aurora tottered out of her grasp into the center of the room, spinning as if she couldn’t find her bearings. Fear crept down Maleficent’s spine as the hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention, and the visions began to attack her as well.

 

_Hermia and Lysander stood back to back, hands out and glowing with defensive hexes as the human king and his fighters crowded them, jabbing at the Faery King with longswords and pikes. Fire was everywhere – burning the tapestries along the walls and the cloth runners on the floor._

_“Why do you do this?!” Lysander demanded, turning to wrap his mate within the protection of his wings. Without warning, a lance entered his neck, and a gush of blood poured from his mouth. Beneath him, Hermia shrieked and coughed, covered in her mate’s own life force._

_Shoving a lifeless Lysander backwards, greedy hands came forward to grab at the Faery Queen, burning through her clothes and scorching her skin with their iron gauntlets. They laughed as she begged to die quickly, ripping her gown to tatters._

 

Maleficent found herself flat on her back, eyes askew and blurry. Aurora came to her sight, looking crazed and breath smelling foul. Had she vomited too? She thought that her mate was saying that she’d found Isobel, but the ringing and throbbing in her ears made it difficult to decipher.   She felt Aurora grab her and tug her upwards to sit, and then hands slapping across her cheeks. “Fly, Maleficent. Go out the front door, _now_!” a voice shouted.

Escape, yes. She must escape. Blearily, she stumbled into the wall, but her wings pushed her back upright. They tried to flutter, but the movement was slow and drunk. Unable to do much else, she fell and crawled down the hall. Frantic, she tucked wings around her arms and threw herself down the stairs and out the door to finally lay breathless on the grasses and cobbles of the pathway.

 

After a few moments Aurora tumbled next to her, holding a bawling Isobel in her arms. The three of them lay there, traumatized and staring unseeing into the starry night, their breathy cries and exhalations fogging the air.

Isobel grasped at her Mother’s robes, knuckles whitened. Snuggling her face like an infant to Maleficent’s bosom, she sobbed. “I… I heard someone crying. It sounded like you.”

* * *

 

[1] A thaisce - ( _ah hash-keh_ ) My treasure.

[2] Moir/Ayr – pet names, “Mama,” and “Daddy.”

[3] Craicéailte – Nuts, crazy. Doo-lally – a person gone mad.

[4] Fastyr mie, ard Ooashlid eu! – Manx language – the Peoples of the Isle of Man and surrounding Outer and Inner Hebrides islands use this ancient language with Gaelic.

[5] mo stóirín – my little darling.


	30. Tá mo Chroí Briste (My Heart is Broken)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sooooo, there’s that. I’m trying not to give too much away as these developing chapters go forward, but I truly thank those who are reviewing and PMing me. A big, warm hug from the author for you! If you’re wondering what the Highland Seelie Keep looks like, you can Google search for Castle Eilean Donan. I know that most of you probably don’t listen to the chapter soundtrack, but it’s fairly important to this chapter if you have the resources available. 
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:  
> Reis Glorios, Erutan  
> Nocturne, Secret Garden  
> Lost, Within Temptation   
> My Heart is Broken, Evanescence

**“Perhaps the greatest of all fairy gifts is the skill of the healer. Throughout the centuries, fairies**

**have bestowed this priceless bequest upon men and women variously known as ‘Fairy Doctors’ in Ireland;**

**‘Wise Wives’ (chèile crìonna) in Scotland; ‘Wise Men’ in Wales, and ‘Cunning Men’ in Cornwall.**

**In Wales, the entire corpus of herbal medicine was believed to have been**

**the inheritance of a fairy woman to her Halfling sons.”**

**– The Legend of the Shepherd in Love with the Faery of Llyn y Fan Fach**

* * *

 

Dazed and confused, Aurora opened her eyes to the bright morning sun. She squinted at the throbbing pain inside her head, and her hand came up lazily to cover her eyes against the onslaught of light. Whimpering, she slowly became aware of the sounds around her: birdsong everywhere – sharp and quickly twittering as if they were anxious, the lowing of a boobrie in the distance, and its clacking beak; and the sad whispering music of nymphs speaking as they danced around her head in unease. Finally, the gasping moans that sounded as if their owner had wept too much, crying out “Moir, mo Moir.”

She rolled towards the voice, instincts telling her to comfort it. Attempting to speak was proving difficult between the pounding of her temples and her dry tongue, so Aurora wriggled next to the warm body draped in silken robes and laid an arm across a bosom. She tugged to draw the woman nearer, but the movement only seemed to cause more pain. A tormented howl erupted from… was this person her mate? Mind whirling, the world and reality became clearer. Yes, this was her bean chèile. Perplexed by the cry of pain, Aurora soothed her mate with a palm to a sharp cheekbone, which was quickly thrown off by the jerk of the head. An anguished shriek came from the woman’s crimson lips, and she began to struggle. “Moir, nach Moir!” the mouth pleaded mournfully.

 

“Mother’s been like that most of the night…” a trembling whisper came from behind Aurora then, and she hissed viciously while scrambling upwards to ascertain the perceived threat. Stumbling back to her knees while grabbing her forehead, it was quickly decided that she’d moved too fast. Strong hands grabbed at her shoulders to steady her, and Aurora opened her eyes to reveal a blurry face haloed in platinum blonde hair. She swung at the threat to her mate, but it only caused her to wobble and fall back to the grass, dizzy and nauseous. Bile rose to her mouth, and she turned her face just in time to expel it. Still, it dribbled down a cheek to mingle with her tears.

“Cabhair! Féidir dhuine ar bith a chloisteáil dom an? _Help! Can anybody hear me_?” Isobel screamed, clawing at her hair and staring back at the looming castle with vitriol and hatred. It had lured her inside with sweet song and a woman’s loving voice calling her name, only to show her bloody, ghastly images out of a nightmare. Horrid, evil place of lies and betrayal! If only she were bigger, she might have been able to drag her mothers farther from the keep, but she was weakened from the night herself. Her mother was well over six feet tall from the tips of her horns to her toes, and Isobel was just over five foot tall and much more petite. The thought of being too weak made her blood boil.

 

Water nymphs, oddly very far from the central lake were picking at her mama’s hair and wings again, chittering like mad at the filthy state of their Queen. They didn’t approach Maleficent except to swoop near her trembling and wailing form, their faces a picture of grief. Isobel bared her teeth and growled at them. They did not move from their post, but they did glare at her like an errant child. That made her even more cross, and she lifted a shaky finger towards them. “Go on! They don’t need a bath, you numblies. We need help!” she shouted. Still, they ignored her commands. A green hex zapped from her outstretched hand and hit one of the blue fae’s mermaid-like tail. It gasped in indignation while flying up to Isobel’s face to screech, carrying on in its nonsense language.

“All right! All right! Goddess above, you noisy wench,” Isobel bit back, waving her palm at the offended fae. On the winds, she began to hear the whistle of a faery pipe used to communicate from long distances. The first calls of the pipe sang from south of the keep, and with her limited knowledge of what the notes meant, it was hard to decipher the piper’s meaning. It sounded like, ‘Not here, keep looking,’ but the rest of the song was a mystery to her.

 

“Ayi! We are here!” she yelled, throwing her head back to carry her voice in all directions. Closer and to the north, another piper answered either the first song or her shouting. Soon, she consoled herself; they’d find them soon. Tucking her knees up, she hugged around them and laid her head down. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she felt embarrassed – she’d caused this whole mess and she knew it well. Clenching her jaw, she feverishly wiped the evidence of her softness away and sniffled. Vowing not to be pathetic in the face of the rescue party, Isobel refused her sadness and replaced it with resentment at the unfairness of the whole situation. She’d only wanted to be alone in her misery, and she couldn’t even do that properly. It was beyond infuriating.

 

The sound of wings on the air came to her, and the tap-tap-tap of landing feet. Around the bend of trees, the visiting Seelie crept warily to stare across the bridge towards the Forbidden Mountain. From the rear, an irate voice threw muffled commands and pushed the search party left and right until it came to the forefront of the group. Queen Titania stood, her wings ruffled as she gazed upon the burnt-out hulk of a castle in reverence. She then genuflected at the end of the pathway, kneeling to kiss the stones near her feet and murmur “Thiocfaidh méi síocháin. Fanar son na síochána. _I come in peace. Stay at peace.”_

Stepping lightly along the bridge as if not to offend the hallowed ground, she turned to yell at the envoys. “What are you afraid of? Come!” Hopping to attention, they followed her, albeit skittishly. As Titania drew nearer to the bodies that lay strewn and crying out across the yard, her step faltered. She drew an arm up to halt the oncoming faeries. Her eyes narrowed at Isobel, but she did not address the girl. Creeping over to Maleficent and Aurora, Titania held her hands palm-down and glowing with defensive magick. “Maleficent?” she intoned carefully, darting around the writhing faery.

 

Maleficent winced at the sound of her name, slinking farther away and howling until her voice began to crack as she called for her mother. Aurora moaned in pain and grasped against her, crawling along with the body.

“They’re right cracked, they are,” whispered a male fae. Some of the search party nodded their agreement, but others glared at the show of disrespect.

Wings shivering with distaste, Titania marched towards Isobel with her hands clawed. She gripped dirty blonde hair between her fists and shook the young woman by the head, her voice dripping with malice. “Do you see what you’ve done, you evil little git! Look at them! _Look at your mothers!”_ she taunted, forcing Isobel to face them. Isobel glared into space, refusing to heed the Seelie Queen’s commands. Titania shook her viciously, wrenching some of the fine pale hair from Bel’s scalp. “How far did they venture inside to get to you?” she demanded. “Tell me!”

 

“Ahh-oww!” Isobel yelped, raking at Titania’s hands with her nails. “I don’t remember! It was so dark... The big room! The one with the stink of blood everywhere!”

Snarling, Titania threw Isobel at a rather imposing male faery. “Crispin, you and Agrippa handle Princess Isobel. Lock her in a room until I can deal with her further. Guard it with your lives.” Turning her attention to Maleficent and Aurora, her shoulders sagged and her voice became quiet and forlorn. “Laurentina and Horatia... Marcellus and Portia, help me to bind their wings and magick until we can secure them in the cottage. You’ll need to carry them, one a pair with spotters in case they struggle and fall from your arms. Marcellus, you’re on Maleficent – she’s heavier than she appears.”

 

A tiny female approached Titania, head bowed in deference. “What of the human kingdom, Majesty? What shall we tell them?”

Titania gnashed her teeth a bit as she pondered the conundrum. “Tell them nothing. I am sure the small council can manage themselves until we can get the chèile crìonna here to help. If they persist, tell them they’ve a cold, or some such nonsense. They won’t know the difference between human and faery ailments, blithering idiots that they are.”

 

* * *

 

Luna sat bundled in a fur throw in front of the kitchen fire, gnawing her talons to the quick.   The fire and the blanket were entirely unnecessary considering the warming weather, but she requested it out of comfort. Alexander had complied, and sat with her to tug wandering fingers from her sharp teeth now and again. He soothed her as best he knew how, and she was thankful for it. However, she couldn’t help but feel the slightest annoyance at his persistence. Luna was used to being alone when fear gripped her mind, and she was agrieved to show it in front of her mate.

“Stop, Alexander...” she mumbled between another chomp of nails. He didn’t listen, grasping her hands into his strong and rough palms to run his thumbs over her wrists, quirking an eyebrow at her in a daring way. He certainly had gall. She hissed lightly in warning, wrenching her hands away and under the fur throw to stare at the flames.

 

Sighing dramatically, Alexander stood and ran his hand lightly over Luna’s hair, frizzed and unkempt in a braided bun gone sour during a completely sleepness night. “There’s no use making yourself ill over it until we know something for sure, Luna,” he said, slightly wounded at her rejection.

“Oh, right. Your grandmother only took three quarters of the travelling court with her for no reason, hmm?” Luna responded, her tone acidic. “You told me what happened in that Gods-awful place. I can’t... I can’t even imagine if Mother had to go inside to get Bel. Seeing those moments in time replay before your very eyes? To feel them as if you were there that very day? _That was her Moir and Ayr, Alexander!”_ she snapped.

 

Attempting to curtail Luna’s anger, Alexander replied quietly. “You’re saying it wrong, like a Scot. Moir like your Mother would say it is ‘more,’ short and soft. Not ‘mh-war,’ which actually means ‘more.’”

“Aye, I say and do all sorts of things wrong, like a Scot,” Luna jibed threateningly.

Alexander held his palms up in surrender. “Peace, Lu. I don’t wish to quarrel when you’re upset.”

 

Outside, a sudden clamor of voices approached. Luna shot up from her chair to bolt outside, and a cry escaped her at what she saw. The Seelie envoys had returned with Queen Titania, and Isobel. Isobel was fighting against those who held her, eyes wild and snapping her teeth. They quickly rushed into the cottage with the pale-haired Princess, leaving Luna gaping after the sight. She turned to face Titania once more, who had come so close while she was distracted, Luna startled backwards into Alexander’s waiting arms.

 

“Luna, do not be afraid by what you’re about to see,” Titania warned, tugging the young woman into an embrace. Soothing a hand over Luna’s head, she continued. “Your mothers went too deep into the keep, and if memory serves me correctly, Maleficent saw something she’d never seen before. It’s shattered her mind, dearest one. You mustn’t be frightened now; I need your help until the faery healers come.”

Luna pulled back quickly, her bottom lip quivering. “And Bel and Mama?”

 

Titania whistled a breath through clenched teeth. “Your sister doesn’t seem to be too addled, which leads me to believe she wasn’t pure of heart when she entered. Only tainted souls can withstand the onslaught of those enchantments and come back unscathed. I only hope that the chèile crìonna can help me with her, but that’s the least of our worries. Aurora is instinctively trying to protect Maleficent, and she seems shocked and ill… but I believe she’ll recover.”

“Will Mother recover?” Luna whispered beseechingly, suddenly feeling quite small.

 

Pausing for effect, Titania looked off to the trees. “I am not sure, Luna. Danu willing, she will. She saw things that no faery should see happen to her parents; things I daren’t say to a lady your age.”

Puffing herself up to height, Luna spoke firmly. “I have killed and scrubbed the blood of my enemies from underneath my talons, my Queen. I am no wilting flower.”

Gazing sideways at Luna as she stared off to the tree line once more, Titania seemed pleased. “Good. As I said, I need your help… not for you to go falling over yourself at the sight of your mothers. Come!” she ordered.

 

Three female faeries and one male came forth, carrying the limp bodies of Maleficent and Aurora. Swirling gold enchantments held their wings and arms still, but even then Maleficent struggled, foam escaping her lips as she caterwauled through clenched teeth.

Luna wobbled, feeling faint. Alexander held her shoulders, which bolstered her resolve. “What do I need to do?” she asked.

“Come inside with me now,” Titania directed. “You can help me with the herbs. I’ll need fresh hops, valerian root, dried thyme and wild lettuce, though the lettuce I’ve had to send someone to Britannia’s borders for. You can pestle the rest for the decoction we’ll make.”

* * *

 

Luna paced the bedchamber, stopping every so often to glare contemptuously in Isobel’s direction. Titania had ordered Bel be brought to view everything being done to her mother to aid in her recovery, forcing the young faery to sit in a corner by a compulsion spell. Though it had seemed cruel to Luna at first, the more she saw of her mothers’ afflictions, the more she wanted Isobel to see it. Her mama was currently sleeping under a calming spell in the next room and seemed to be doing well, all things considered.

 

The faery healers had arrived, humming and arguing over the concoction that she’d put together. They didn’t say much, communicating more by way of the eyes and well placed sighs and hand movements. It was like studying Mother’s way of speaking, and it made her heart ache for the woman twisting against enchantments in vain while trapped in nightmares. Her voice was gone, so when she would scream out it sounded like the hollow rasping of dried corn yairds in the wind. She begged for her long-dead mother against all hope, and every heartrending call drove an invisible dagger deeper into Luna’s heart.

 

The decoction smelled foul, and when Luna had asked if the healers could sweeten the medicine she’d received a swift rebuff. The eldest of the group had shaken her head, looking mournfully at the ceiling of the kitchen as she spoke. “It needs to be bitter to remind your mother’s soul that life is sweeter than chasing death.”

They’d grouped around Maleficent’s prostrate form, grasping at her arms and legs to hold her down and still. The head healer entered the room with the now-cooled remedy in a small cup, her face steely as if she was deciding the best course of action.

 

“W-What’re you going to do?” Luna implored. “Please, don’t hurt her…”

Ignoring her questioning, the healer gripped Maleficent’s chin forcefully, pinching two fingers and a thumb on either side of her jaw to force open the faery’s mouth. Quickly pouring the vile liquid past chapped lips, she cupped her hand firmly over and pinched a nose with the other hand.

 

Luna wailed and wrung her hands as she saw pale teal and golden eyes pop open in rage and pure madness. Maleficent sputtered beneath the healer’s hand, trying to expel the noxious taste, all while bucking her hips against the other healers who had thrown themselves over in a feeble attempt to keep her body still.

The healers seemed to enjoy the fight, wheezing chuckles beneath their cowled robes. “She’s a wily fierce one, this!” a younger one yelped.

 

“Stop it! Stop it, I say! You’re going to make it worse…” Luna bellowed, only to be held back by Titania.

“She needs to fight, Luna. She needs to battle the darkness, and come back to the light… to us. Watch, soon she’ll relax,” the Seelie Queen cooed.

 

As promised, within minutes Maleficent’s body began to sink back into the blankets and bolsters. The decoction had coated her throat with wetness, and she mewled like a weak winter-born calf instead of the horrible rasping of earlier. “Moir, nach Moir…”

The healers straightened themselves and their robes, nodding their heads in respect to Titania as they exited the room.   Titania led Luna over to the bed, and set her upon the edge. Reaching a hand over to brush sweat from her great grand-niece’s forehead, she tsked under her breath. “Your Moir’s dead and gone, love. But you’re alive.” Turning to Luna, she squeezed her hands against the Princess’ palms. “Talk to her, Luna. Remind her why she needs to live. She won’t live for my old, cantankerous self, but perhaps she will for you.”


	31. Banríon na Garbhchríocha (Queen of the Highland Moors)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to the readership who continue to give constructive reviews and those of you that read! Your enjoyment of this tale keeps me writing. If you’re too shy to leave a public review, please know that I do answer all PMs if you have questions or comments.
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> Healing Chant – Heather Alexander
> 
> Suo Gan – (voice) Kathleen Turner
> 
> The Voice – Celtic Woman
> 
> Three Queens – Heather Dale

****

**“The Tuatha De Danann, who were conquered and driven underground by the Milesians and who afterwards dwindled down**

**into the Daoine Sidhe, were the heroic fairies, and their horses were eloquently described by Lady Wilde in her Ancient Legends of Ireland:**

**_‘And the breed of horses they reared could not be surpassed in the world - fleet as the wind,_ **

**_with the arched neck and the broad chest and the quivering nostril, and the large eye that_ **

**_showed they were made of fire and flame, and not of dull, heavy earth._ ’” **

* * *

 

Luna lay in bed, stroking her mother’s silken hair gently in the early morning light. Her mama stared out the window, resting under a fine fur in a high back chair. She was up and about, and though she hadn’t said much since last night when she’d been allowed to wake from her healing, Aurora did afford her daughters blinding smiles full of love.

 

Eyes resting longingly on peaceful repose of Maleficent, Luna sighed peevishly. While her mother did indeed sleep without incident or crying out for the past six days, she didn’t do much else except breathe. She’d tried to coax water down the elder faery’s throat, but it usually burbled up and dribbled down her chin. Luna hadn’t tried again after two very ungraceful attempts, blushing with embarrassment at her mother’s predicament. The wise wives had tutted and smiled at her, letting Luna have her way.

 

This morning, the youngest of the trio of Halfling women had made her way into the bedchamber carrying a tray laden with breakfast. Luna’s nose sniffed the air appreciatively and followed the tray with her eyes, to which the chèile crìonna had given her a wink. Clearing her throat, the fair-haired maiden placed the tray on the sideboard and reached out for the sad young woman abed. “Come, Princess. I’ve made you four ten-minute eggs, two for you and two for your Lady Mother. You need to keep your strength up.”

 

Aurora tsked, but smiled at the tray. “Eggs, you say? Maleficent wouldn’t like that.”

 

The chèile crìonna gritted her teeth into a semblance of a polite smile, but was insistent. “My Queen, I hardly think the hens will miss four eggs. Besides, _it’s not as if her Majesty has awoken to have a say in it_ ,” she jibed loudly at the bed.

 

The woman’s boldness made Luna gasp, and then giggle with hysterics. Aurora began to snicker as well, wiping tears delicately from the corners of her eyes. Even while laughing, it was difficult to keep the sadness of the tribulations she’d experienced from escaping.

 

“Thank you…I’m so sorry, I’ve failed to glean your name from our conversations,” Luna murmured shyly. The truth was, the trio of ladies hadn’t given their names, but Queen Titania had recognized and trusted them. It had been good enough for Luna until this point, but not very good for conversation.  


The petite healer turned a crinkle-eyed grin towards Luna and tugged her out of the bed. Patting the princess’s frizzed hair down with a mother’s touch, the wise wife whispered, “Gwenhwyfar[1], but I did not tell you so.”

 

Luna bit at her lip in question, and her eyebrow rose. “You’re Breatnaise?”[2]

 

“Aye, Princess. Now hush, and eat your eggs before they go cold as this brisk Bealtaine morning,” Gwenhwyfar ordered gently.

 

Doing so dutifully, Luna sat next to her mama and began shoveling the eggs quickly down, sparing glances at the still form of Maleficent in the bed.

 

Aurora reached across the small side table to place her hand on Luna’s, and voiced her request quietly. “Slowly, Lu. Don’t make yourself ill.”

 

Taking off her cowled cloak, Gwenhwyfar stepped towards Maleficent with her hands glowing. Looking at Luna and Aurora, she nodded as if to reassure them. Taking a deep breath, she began to chant as her hands wisped golden magick over the sleeping faery. “Come to me, Lord and Lady; heal this spirit, heal this soul. Come to me, Lord and Lady; mind and body shall be whole. Beast of the burning sunlight, seal this wound that pain may cease. Mistress of watery midnight, hold us fast and bring us peace.” Her verse continued over and over three times.

 

Her chanting voice was deep, so unlike the tinkling bells of her speaking tone. It seemed to echo in the entire cottage, sending a shiver up Luna’s spine. Without knowing it, she drew closer to her mama, the chair she sat in scraping along the floor. Aurora placed a weak hand upon Luna’s and squeezed.

 

“You’ve magick, but you don’t have wings,” Luna blurted out, clapping a hand over her lips in apology for her rudeness.   Her mind raced to the many books she’d read over her years in captivity at the Unseelie Court, and illustrations of halflings without wings but capable of great power came to mind. But, those Sidhe were very ancient. “H-How old are you?” she whispered in shock, an accusatory tone creeping into Luna’s voice.

 

Gwenhwyfar simply shrugged and placed her cowl back on, disguising her form once more. Gliding through the bedchamber door, she turned to close it and spoke steadfastly. “We are faeries, Princess. We are time immemorial.”

 

* * *

 

Bathed and dressed once more, it felt silly to creep back into bed with her mother. Luna did so anyhow, taking a brush to the lustrous strands that fell nearly to Maleficent’s knees. Smirking inwardly, Luna began to speak to her mother as the wise wives had told her to do.

 

“You know, your hair is beautiful when it’s long, but you never do anything with it. It just… lies there, limp as a wet rag. Perhaps since you’re sleeping so deeply, I might braid it up for you?” Her nimble fingers plucked hair away from the sharp cheekbones, tucking some behind a gently pointed ear and into a plait. “I didn’t have anyone to do this for me when I was a wee girl. You didn’t either, did you Mother? I mean, the water nymphs are good at combing, but they’d wreath your entire head with roses if you let them. They’re not very good at subtle beauty.”

 

Silence persisted from the still form next to Luna, but she didn’t give up. Two plaits had come from a central part, and she wrapped these over the top of her mother’s head to make a crown. Knitting them together with a leather thong, the braid once again split into two to wrap behind horns and downwards. “I… I miss you, Mother. I never thought the day would come where I would love you. But, I do… ever so much. Please, Mother…” Luna’s voice trembled, and she took a breath of air to steady herself once more.

 

“I never had your arms to hold me, or to rock me to sleep. I don’t even think I’ve ever heard _you_ sing. Mama told me the songs you used to sing for her, and Bel and Sola… All faeries like to make merry with music. Don’t you like it any more?” Steady breaths rose and fell beneath the mahogany tresses that Luna was weaving smaller braids in, but there was no response.

 

“I should like you to sing for me. I shall sing for you a song that Gwe…the wise wife taught me over lunch. Huna blentyn ar fy mynwes, clyd a chynnes ydyw hon; breichiau mam sy'n dynn amdanat. Cariad mam sy dan fy mron… Do you know Welsh?” Luna licked her lips, feeling strange lifting her voice to the words that sounded peculiar to her ears. “You must. I know you speak lots of the tongues from around the land. It means _‘sleep my baby, at my breast. ‘Tis a mother's arms round you, and make yourself a snug, warm nest. Mother’s love is always true.’_ Has your love always been true for me, Mother?”

 

A tear fell from Luna’s cheek onto Maleficent’s face, and she wiped the errant evidence of emotion away swiftly. “S-sorry, Mother. Here I am, sniffling over you like some weakling. Mama is dealing with Isobel right now and I… I just get so lonely. Alexander is good help, but I don’t want to be near him. I want to be near _you…”_ she babbled.

 

“Shhhhhhhh,” Maleficent hushed Luna, the sound barely an exhale. Her eyes still hadn’t opened, so the young faery perked and leaned over her mother’s lips, aching for another noise to escape. A puff of air tickled the shell of Luna’s ear, and arms slowly rose to clasp her close under their heavy weight.

 

“Huna'n dawel, annwyl blentyn. Huna'n fwyn ar fron dy fam,” a voice dry from overuse and lack of drink susurrated. _“Sleep quietly, dear child. Sleep sweetly on Mother's breast.”_

 

Luna’s heart burned with joy, and the warmth spread from her chest all the way to her toes. She wanted to yell out and kick her heels together in celebration, but her mind screamed for her to stay; to stay and be quiet, to enjoy this moment and remember it forever.

 

“I love you too, Mother,” she uttered confidently, holding the woman beneath her for dear life.

 

* * *

 

Aurora basked in the bright afternoon sun. She’d been laid out like some sort of laundry to dry by the faery healers in the middle of the clearing, and it brought a wry smile to her lips. Isobel reclined on the blankets as well, though her expression was decidedly sourer than buttermilk.

“If you keep your face that way, it shall freeze as such,” the Queen warned her grumpy child, tapping her pale nose playfully.

 

“Mama, stop.” Isobel grunted, and turned away to curl upon herself like a cockleshell. “Is it not enough that everyone else is treating me like a whiny bairn?”

Aurora was not deterred, a sparkle coming to her eye. “You _are_ my baby, Isobel Yvaine. The shadows on your heart do not scare me, as a mama’s love is unconditional.” Adopting a teasing tone, she pushed further. “What, you want me to cower underneath my furs while you screech ‘I am the darkness! _Fear me!?_ ’ It didn’t work for your mother, and it shan’t work for you.”

 

Isobel huffed and crossed her arms, curling her wings around herself in a vain attempt to escape her mama’s eyes.

“Very convincing, Isobel. I am thoroughly petrified,” Aurora remarked drily.

 

Hopping up with a growl, Bel flared her wings out and bared her teeth.

The Queen threw her head back and laughed gaily. “Again!” she clapped. “Encore!”

 

“Augh!” Isobel screamed to the heavens, stalking towards the forest. The sounds of Queen Titania and her guards yelling at the edge of the trees captured her attention. “Mama, d’you hear that?”

“Hmm? Whatever is all that racket?” Aurora wondered, sitting up slowly. Her wings ruffled and she gasped at the soreness in her muscles as she rose to stand. “Come on then, oh tiny Mistress of all evil. Let us see what has gotten Queen Titania fit to be tied.”

 

As Aurora and Isobel crept through the trees, they could see the Seelie guards standing abreast against a horse of pure white, which was pawing at the ground angrily. A raven-haired girl stood next to the animal, her demeanor nervous. Sitting upon her arm was none other than Diaval himself.

“I told you, your Majesty! I donnae how, but the humans know something is wrong. If you don’t send one of the princesses or the Queens back to the castle for a visit soon, they’ll come raining down upon your heads! Mister Diaval showed me the secret meetings they’ve been havin’! I dinnae know how to get out here with all your protective enchantments, and I cried all night about it. I knew something was odd when we hadn’t heard hide from anyone. This horse comes trotting up to the edge of the green house, bashing its very head on the glass where I was weeping! It took me here,” the young woman begged her case. Diaval clacked his beak at the Seelie Queen for good measure, his feathers puffed out in ire.

 

Isobel took her mama’s hand and roughly pulled her forward into the fray. Aurora squawked in mild protest at the fast movement, but followed her daughter. “Isobel! What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Yes, Isobel. What are you doing?” Titania’s voice was deadly.

 

“Bleedin’ idiots! She’s probably telling you the truth. That is Caitriona mac Selbaig, Sola’s bosom friend.” Bel snapped at her mother and the Seelie Queen.

 

“I will warn you not to take that tone with myself or your Lady Mother, as if you aren’t in enough trouble already!” Titania threatened, her eyes blazing with anger.

 

Isobel held up her hands in a gesture of peace, but rolled her eyes for good measure. “I apologize, my Queen. It’s just… She’s telling you the truth.”

 

Aurora’s heart raced in anxiety, and she clutched at it with her hand. The small council had been meeting in secret?

Titania took the gesture as a sign of pain, and drew the young Queen close to her. “See now, Caitriona mac Selbaig? You’ve made the Queen’s condition worse… you and the brat. I ought to thrash you both for your insolence.”

 

Quaking in her boots, Caitriona somehow found the courage to stand tall against the threat. “The horse tells me it’s here to see Luna. I imagine Mister Diaval wants to parley with her Majesty, Queen Maleficent. Where is she?”

Sputtering with fury, Titania countered “And how do you know what these familiars say, feeble girl?”

 

Caitriona worried at her bottom lip with her teeth, and glanced down at the forest floor. “Sola taught me how to talk with Mister Diaval.” Diaval cawed in affirmation. “The horse just… talks in your mind, you kin? I consider myself a… friend of Queen Maleficent, too.”

 

Alexander clapped a hand over his forehead in frustration and intervened. “Of course her Majesty understands, girl. The horse is a faery being. They don’t often talk to humans, though.” He reached forward for the reins, but the animal reared back with a whinny, snorting angrily at the Seelie prince.

“And apparently does not recognize me as its master,” Alexander conceded warily. “You want Luna, horse? You’ll have to come to the cottage.” The animal tossed its head into the air and back down in acknowledgement.

 

Titania hissed at Alexander for proceeding without her say so. “Bring the human girl who thinks she is worthy to call upon my great grand-niece’s name as a friend.”

 

Reaching out towards the shaking girl, Aurora tried to train her face into a kind smile. “Come, Caitriona. It seems you’ll be joining our little party today, hmm?”

 

* * *

 

As the motley troupe of faeries, human, and beasts arrived back at the cottage, they were astounded to see Maleficent traversing the clearing slowly with Luna, leaning on the young faery’s arm for support. At the door, the three chèile crìonna looked on with varying levels of pleasure, relief, and satisfaction.

 

Aurora rushed forward, stumbling over her slow feet. “Maleficent! What are you doing?”

Granting a rare toothy grin at her mate, the tall faery tugged Luna to a halt. “I should think I am taking a walk around, Aurora. Luna is playing nurse maid.”

“Oh, thank heavens!” Aurora exclaimed, tottering forth to clasp Maleficent tightly. She cried bitterly into the velvet robes of her dearest treasure, and turned to tug Luna into the embrace as well.

 

Isobel, feeling quite out of place and alone, cleared her throat.

Maleficent looked up and focused on the group before her. “Diaval! Caitriona! Come, come…” she bid them forward with her arms wide. Joshing lightly, she sighed. “You too, Isobel.”

 

Diaval swooped to land on Maleficent’s head, pecking at the braids that decorated her hair so oddly. Caitriona awkwardly shoved herself into the Queen’s embrace, and Isobel grunted as she was hugged against the strange human girl who always saw good in her twin. At least they had that in common, she supposed.

While Titania gaped at the lack of propriety being shown, Alexander hooted and slapped his knee. The rest of the Seelie envoys seemed to chuckle with him. Nobody had ever seen the belligerent and normally unreasonably terse Protector of the Highland Moors acting this way before. It was as if she couldn’t get enough hugs, or smile enough. There seemed to be a special glow about her, and while it made many of them comfortable, it set others on edge.

 

Impatient, the faery horse pawed at the ground. Maleficent reluctantly released those in her reach and eyed the animal speculatively. Diaval clacked and cawed above her, as if to fill her in.

Smirking lightly, she turned to Luna. “It seems Airgid here wishes to take you to the castle. He believes wholeheartedly that your appearance will whip everyone back into shape, and they’ll stop blathering on like old biddies about your mama and I dying from some strange faery ailment. You _are_ the eldest, you know.”

 

Airgid ignored her then, walking slowly up to Luna and snuffling her face with his great muzzle. He whickered, his tail swishing in happiness. Luna laughed cheerfully, petting his cheeks as she put her forehead to his. “He says I am prettier than he expected, and that is a compliment because I am not a horse. Thank you, Airgid.”

Puffing with distaste, Titania regarded the conversation coolly. “You know what this means, do you not Maleficent? Danu has sent Luna her horse.”

“Yes, yes I do,” Maleficent replied, her wings quivering proudly.

 

Isobel looked grouchier than ever, tapping her foot against the grass. “What does it mean then?”

“The Gods have declared Luna the Queen of the Highland Moors,” sneered Titania, glaring at Alexander and anyone her gaze could rest upon. “Airgid was Hermia’s mount. I haven’t seen him in years. You did not enjoy your early retirement, wily beast?”

 

Luna gasped, her fingers shaking as she cupped them against her lips.

“But, you can’t!” Isobel was incensed. “Mama is Queen of the Moors!”

 

Aurora waved her hand at Luna and Isobel, sighing in relief. “Take it, take it. It is your birthright. I want to lie on more blankets in the sun with your Mother. We have a situation with the human kingdom to deal with.”

 

Airgid bowed down, swaying his head towards his back in a request for Luna to come astride. She did so, beaming all the while.   The white stallion walked slowly over to Caitriona and nudged her arm gently, his black eyes shining in thanks and request for company. The young woman batted her eyelashes prettily in response to his requests, and she rested a hand lightly to pet along his neck.

 

Maleficent looked upwards at the mess of her hair Diaval had made, and sighed. “I suppose you’ll want to fill me in while Luna heads back to the castle, so you can go spy on the situation some more?”

Swooping outwards into the air, Diaval flapped his wings in expectation as his Mistress flicked two fingers his way. He burst into a man, a lopsided grin spread across his face. “Am I ever glad to see that you’ve recovered from your cold! I dinnae even know you could get a cold,” he joked.

* * *

 

[1] **Gwenhwyfar -** (gwen-HWIV-ahr) Welsh, from _gwen_ "shining, holy" + _hwyfer_ “spirit, fairy".

[2] **Breatnaise –** slang for “Welsh.”


	32. Deamhan Coimhdeachta (Familiar Spirit)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well hello there, readers! I hope that you’ll bear with the story as the plots for this portion of our tale emerge. This chapter is very necessary, and while pretty angsty shouldn’t be (too) painful. Reviews are appreciated, as always. XO! 
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:  
> Hold Onto What You Believe, Mumford and Sons  
> Fallen Embers, Enya  
> Absence of Fear, Jewel

**“And for about the millionth time in her life she felt an overwhelming gratitude for her best friend.**

**Because she knew he wouldn't mention this afterward; she knew he wouldn't take it**

**as a sign that she was losing her nerve or was in too deep. There weren't many people in this world**

**who would let you be vulnerable and still believe you were strong.”**

**  
― Rob Thomas, _The Thousand-Dollar Tan Line_**

* * *

 

Aurora’s soft snores were typically a comfort, but this evening even they began to grate on Maleficent’s sharp hearing. She sensed the telltale echoes of Isobel’s wheezes that could scarcely be called snoring, as well. Her eyes stared at the ceiling where Luna and Bel rested above, glaring ominously towards the source of the racket that kept her awake. Though, how anyone expected her to rest after being trapped in nightmares and dreams worse than death itself was beyond her comprehension. This would be her third sleepless night, and Maleficent wondered if anyone had noticed.

 

Truthfully, if she never slept again, she might be as content as she had been acting. If there was anything Maleficent had learned in her week long sojourn to the lowest depth of Hell, it was that life is never meant to be experienced piecemeal. She wanted it all, and she wanted it now: every moment she’d shirked out of fear, pain, or hate. Every single second she’d wasted, trapped in her own mind.   Surely, if she acted thankful to be alive, then fate would perhaps grant her wishes.

 

Maleficent judiciously ignored recalling that she’d begged her dream-Mother to kill her several times over, rather than relive the memories the cursed castle had entrenched so deeply in her mind. Her beloved Moir’s tormented screams of pain now felt part of her soul and slithered under the surface of her skin, leaving burning trails of shame.

 

Slipping quietly out of bed, she padded into the kitchen and snapped her fingers at the tinder lying in the fireplace. She smirked as a spark fell to the bundle, kindling a flame. Fetching a kettle from above her head, she poured water in and hung it over the fire. Adding a few small logs, Maleficent stood back and reached up again for the dried heather flowers from last season. These she crumbled between her fingers into the kettle. Mixed with honey, it would make a warm drink to calm her nerves.

With a huff, Maleficent sat at the table and willed the water to boil faster. Of course, it didn’t comply. Snatching the kettle from the hook over the fire, she quickly poured the tea and slugged back the lukewarm, gritty tonic. Her face screwed up at the astringent taste of the dried flower sludge that she had hastily forgotten to strain. “Blech!” she exclaimed, jumping slightly as a thump sounded from upstairs. _Be quiet. Be quiet. I’m not awake. Go to sleep, child._

 

In her sleep-deprived state, slinking outside seemed to be the only option. Doing so without much thought, she didn’t bother throwing a cloak over her silk night shift. The chilly night air sent a shiver down her naked back, and she darted to the forest in search of shelter from the breeze.

Felled wood crunched under her bare feet, and her quick gait slowed as the broken twigs poked at the now tender soles. “Curse it,” she seethed, picking up a foot to wipe the slivers away. This was why she despised shoes. They made her feet weak. _Soft_. If there was anything the faery despised more, it was the feeling of disadvantage. Vowing to burn every single pair she owned, she trod on.

 

A whoosh of feathers behind Maleficent’s head made her turn towards the sound. Diaval landed on a low branch, croaking at her in question.

“I’m going for a walk. Our conversations earlier about the small council threatening our claim has kept me awake,” she murmured in response, but did not meet his eyes. Diaval had been her best friend and familiar for so long, he could discern the fine line between truth and avoidance by her gaze.

 

Shaking his head, Diaval hopped down onto her shoulder. He pecked at her hair above an elfin ear, waving his wings in annoyance.

“Fine,” Maleficent snapped, performing the enchantment to turn raven to man.

Shaking himself out and straightening the neckline of his shirt, Diaval peered knowingly up at the taller woman. “Losing sleep over a bunch of humans, Maleficent? I donnae think so. Did you forget we’ve been friends for damn near forty years when the witch ladies knocked you out?”

 

Maleficent grimaced and scrunched her eyebrows at her familiar. “They’re not witch…” Gritting her teeth at her mind’s runaway thoughts, she focused once more. “That’s not the point. We talked strategy all afternoon with Aurora and Titania. Of course I haven’t forgotten the length of our friendship!”

Looking rather pleased with himself, Diaval countered, “Then you know that I see right through your ridiculous act. If there’s one thing you’re not, it’s giddy and foolhardy.”

“Foolhardy?” the faery hissed.

“Aye, a complete madcap. Did ye realize you’re traipsing around the forest at damn near three in the morn wearing nothing but your nightclothes? Confound it, Maleficent; you’re near naked as a babe!”

 

Though embarrassment pinked her cheekbones, Maleficent refused the emotion. “And since when has any state of my undress bothered you, Diaval?”

Raking a hand roughly through his feathery hair, Diaval laughed mirthlessly and looked at the ground. He stayed silent for a moment, considering his next move. Then, with a swift jerk he removed his shirt and thrust it at Maleficent. “Put… put it on.”

“And however am I supposed to do that? There isn’t room for my wings,” she teased.

“Gods, woman! I donnae! Drape it over your bosom at the very least,” Diaval bit back, draping the shirt over her two shoulders only to have it fall to the forest floor a moment later.

 

Deciding she’d get to the bottom of this ludicrous squabble sooner rather than later, Maleficent commented drily, “You know I typically sleep in the nude. I’ve only taken to wearing these absurdly glorified pillowcases since we’ve guests.” Her hand fell to the man’s shoulder in an attempt to show she cared about his discomfort, even if she didn’t understand it.

Diaval jumped back from the gentle touch like she’d struck him.

Angry at the behavior, Maleficent had enough. “Whatever is wrong with you, Diaval?” she sniped.

“It’s springtime, all right?!” he snapped, crossing his arms and turning away from the sight of her.

 

“And that’s my issue, how? Go off and find yourself a mate,” the faery commanded, suddenly very aware of the problem at hand. She crossed her own arms then in an attempt to cover the rising blush creeping along her chest, hoping that she looked merely annoyed.

A bitter tone crept into the raven man’s voice. “I don’t want another damned mate, Maleficent. They die after ten or so years. I’ve watched most of my hatchlings die of old age, too,” he replied sulkily.

Her voice suddenly tender, Maleficent whispered, “I’ve always told you that you’ve paid your debt to me more than once over, Diaval. I would release you from your bond to my life force… if that is what you wanted.” Her heart burned at the thought of her dearest confidant besides her own mate perishing, but she knew it was not her choice.

Sighing deeply, Diaval settled himself onto a fallen log a few paces away and wiped at his face. “And I’ve told you, _over and over._ That is never my wish. What are yours?”

 

Settling herself on the log and bumping her shoulder playfully with the sullen man, Maleficent looked wistfully at the skies to admire the stars and the moon. “My wishes? If wishes were horses, I’d have a stable full. My children would never know pain, or sacrifice themselves so that I might live. I’d wish to never be separated from my dearest friend or from my love. I don’t particularly care to die, myself. I’d even wish…” her voice died off.

“What else?” Diaval muttered, his interest piqued.

“I wish to marry Aurora before Luna marries Alexander,” she retorted, her voice suddenly small.

Diaval rolled his eyes. “So, do it. What, d’you have to do it on a certain faery celebration day that makes it impossible to do before Luna or some such nonsense? Don’t tell me you’d placate the idiots at the monasteries by doing it on a Christian day.”

“Never!” Maleficent spat venomously. “How sacrilegious would that be? No, I just want it to be perfect, and I cannot for the life of me figure out how to make it so.”

 

“I’ve never known you to do anything halfway, so that’s not a surprise. What would make it perfect?” Diaval spared a sideways glance at his Mistress.

Maleficent wrung at her hands, and the odd gesture brought the attention of her friend, softening his eyes a bit. She never fidgeted unless she was extremely on edge, he knew. “You’d be there. Diaval, you’ve never attended any of the major events in my life unless I’m about to die or I’m off avenging some wrong done to me. Why are you never there for my happiness? Were you truly too busy with your mates or your chil…hatchlings?”

A great puff of breath left the man’s throat then, and he seemed to deflate a bit at her side. “I was at Aurora’s coronation in the Moors. I’ve always resided where you are, and played with the girls when they were young. I seem to recall days at the beach where we dashed madly through the surf. I’ve seen your happiness,” he described, counting off the instances on his fingers.

Responding in kind, the faery counted off on her lithe fingers, “The birth of Sola and Isobel. Their christening, and name day fetes. Even Aurora’s name days once she reached adulthood… _Mine, even_.”

 

Diaval gulped, “Aye, I was busy.”

“With what? Avoiding me?” Maleficent exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration.

“No… I just,” he took a moment to collect his thoughts, as it was evident that his ruse had been discovered. “It took you long enough to notice.”

Gritting her teeth in irritation, Maleficent turned her face and body towards Diaval. “Notice what? What don’t I notice?”

 

Overcome with emotion, Diaval stood to pace the small clearing. “Are you really so focused on _Aurora_ that you never saw? Not once, to even give a passing thought? Did you have any _idea_ how out of my head I was at hearing you were at death’s door?” Pausing to scoff and shake his fists at the heavens, he continued. “Maleficent, you thick-headed, passionate, vexing, beautiful thing! I love you! _I have always loved you!”_ he shouted. “Not just lusted like some sort of beast in rut… Though, there was a fair amount of lusting,” he stuttered. “But love! I thought… Hells, I don’t know what I thought.”

Maleficent’s eyes were huge with shock, and her crimson lips hung open. She felt suddenly cold to her very heart, and her teeth began to chatter.   The only thought that came to her mind slowly made its way past her lips. “H-how long?” she inquired.

Shaking his head, Diaval whispered, “Sometimes I think the night your wings were taken, and I was enamored with your beauty as you sat in the ruins, waiting to die. Other times I think it was when you began to soften towards…the child. I wanted to right every wrong done to you, ever. So, I have.”

 

“Diaval…” Maleficent croaked as if her heart was breaking. A tear rolled down her sharp cheekbone, but she ignored it. Nearly dying had taught her not to resist the pain of life, for it made the joys sweeter. She wasn’t entirely sure what joy could come from this situation, however.

Fast as lightning, Diaval moved towards her and clasped her shoulders in his hands, shaking her lightly. “Now, stop that. Snap out of it!” he exclaimed, worried he’d traumatized her to the point of regression. Staring her directly in the eye, he waited for some sort of resistance: a shrug of her shoulder, a scooting away, or a slap even. None came; the faery continued to stare at him with intense sadness.

Amazed, he came closer to her. Her sweet breath fanned over his face, but she did not move. Ever so slowly, his lips met hers. Still, no movement or sound came from beneath him.

 

Retreating, Diaval crouched slightly as if to await a blow. _Just kill me now. I can die happily now._

Instead, the blow came as a breeze next to him as Maleficent leapt to flee the clearing, launching so quickly into the air that it knocked him down. Swiftly coming back to his feet, Diaval called after her, “Damn it, Maleficent! Come back!”

 

* * *

 

 

Aurora rolled over in bed, her hands grasping for the figure of her mate. Maleficent’s side of the bed was cold, and it startled her into semi-wakefulness.

“Malle?” she called softly as her eyes blearily searched the room.

 

A rustling of feathers came from the chair by the window, and a quiet voice responded, “I am here.” A sniffle followed the statement.

“What’s the matter, darling?” the Queen sat up, reaching toward the figure sitting in the shadows of early morning. “Why are you awake so early?” As her eyes began to adjust to the dim light, she could make out the teary, puffy eyes of the seated woman, along with the trails of evidence that stained her cheeks. Even her nose was slightly reddened, as if the faery had rubbed at it.

A hand waved Aurora off. “Don’t worry, mo chroí. I will be fine.”

 

Aurora’s mouth turned down into a light frown, and she sighed heavily as she came to her feet and walked to the window. Placing herself into Maleficent’s lap, her hands came along the woman’s cheeks, rubbing them gently with her thumbs. “Don’t avoid my questions, please. Are you worried about Luna going to the city to sort out that mess? We could send Dia...”

Without warning, Maleficent’s lips were upon her own, hushing the rest of the statement. The force of the kiss was ardent in its request for dominance. After a few moments, Aurora broke the kiss and raised her eyebrow. “This conversation isn’t over,” she argued.

 

Maleficent’s eyes flashed defeat momentarily before settling back into impassiveness. The sight both worried and confused Aurora, but she didn’t have long to ponder it. She was quickly lifted in the arms of her mate, and laid back upon their bed. Another blistering kiss soon followed, and Aurora found herself sputtering beneath it, gasping for air.

Drawing back to allow Aurora breath, Maleficent sat up and tore at the offending garment that tied around her neck. Grasping it with fury, she shredded it with her talons and tried to hide her hiccuping sobs that threatened to break loose from her throat.

Frightened violet-blue eyes met her own as delicate and soft hands clasped over clawing ones to draw them away from the ruined gown. “Ay, easy... easy. What did your shift ever do to you?” Aurora’s hands deftly untied the knot at Maleficent’s neck, and slid the tatters remaining over wing and shoulder.

“I hate it. _Burn it_ ,” Maleficent hissed.

Drawing her cherished one down to the mattress with a tug, Aurora quipped, “I don’t think it’s good for much else now, anyway.”

 

A throaty chuckle escaped Maleficent then, clearly at war with the pensiveness that had taken up residence in her swirling teal, golden and blue gaze. She began to divest Aurora of her gown then, stopping to kiss, nibble and worship each inch of skin revealed.

They went on like this for an indeterminate amount of time, caressing smooth skin and feathers. Maleficent would take Aurora to the brink and draw back, much to the petite blonde’s chagrin.

Gripping her mate’s willowy fingers in her hands, she groaned. “Are we getting anywhere with this before the entire household wakes for the day?”

 

The wounded look that crossed Maleficent’s face was not fleeting, and her wings laid flat against her back in remorse. “I’m sorry, ‘Rora. I just keep trying to make the moment as I had imagined, but it escapes me. I dreamt of this while I slept – one of the few blissful moments between torture, and...”

“What moment?” Aurora interrupted, her face full of understanding. She snuggled and drew her mate closer, tracing soothing patterns over the strong arms that held her.

“I can’t say it now. You’re frustrated with me,” Maleficent’s deep voice resonated beneath Aurora’s ears as they pressed to her chest. “I’ve fouled it up.”

 

Rolling on top of the lanky faery, Aurora gave a reproachful stare. “I’ll be more frustrated if you don’t tell me already.”

Raising an eyebrow and pursing her lips together, Maleficent met the stare with one of her own. “You’re not going to give this up, are you?”

“No,” Aurora sassed tartly, tapping a finger to the tip of an aquiline nose.

 

Nodding in aquiescence, Maleficent swallowed and hugged her Queen close again, running her hands over the golden hair that curled softly everywhere. “Phósadh liom?”[1] she asked, her request delicate and quiet as air.

 

Beneath her embrace, Aurora jolted and gasped in surprise.

 

 

 

[1] pósadh liom – marry me

 


	33. Póstaí Sídhe (Faerie Marriages... are Often Turbulent,) Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, last chapter before the wedding (and other stuff!) Enjooooooooy! 
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:  
> One I Love, Meav  
> Little Marriage, Lia Ices  
> Familiar’s Promise, Heather Alexander

**“Though they can confuse one with their words, fairies cannot lie.**

**They hate being told 'thank you', as they see it as a sign of one forgetting the good deed done,**

**and instead want something that will guarantee remembrance.”**

 

* * *

 

 

Sixteen days had passed since Luna, Alexander, Caitriona, and of course Airgid and Diaval had gone back to the city centre and into the castle. Aurora sat primly on her favorite chair by the big, bay leaden glass windows and hummed softly to herself as she slid delicate faery lace and silks through her fingers, stitching embroidery.

 

Sitting at the other end of the table was Titania, who was weaving together bolts of fabrics in the air with the simplest wiggle of her fingers. Aurora looked on appreciatively. “I wish I could do it as easily,” the younger blonde sighed.

 

A small quirk graced Titania’s lips, and she rolled her eyes goodnaturedly. “You’ve only had magick for a few years now, young one. You don’t practice it much, as you’ve yet to find the time.” Aurora’s cheeks pinked a bit at that observation, but she didn’t interrupt the wisdom of the centuries-old faerie as she continued. “Besides, I wish I could carry a tune as well as you, but I wasn’t blessed with the gift of song. All of my talent comes from being so dreadfully old.”

 

“I wasn’t blessed with song,” Aurora responded, looking down at a finger she’d pricked with the bone needle and wincing. She brought the bloody fingertip to her mouth and sucked on it, worrying the edge of the lace in her other hand to check for blood stains.

 

Titania sat back with an incredulous look, and the amethyst furls of magick died away from the fabric in the air as it fell unceremoniously to the floor. “My orders were very specific: You were to be gifted with beauty by Knotgrass, song by Flittle, and true love by Thistlewit. Granted, the last bit was a jab at your father for what he did to Maleficent. I didn’t know she’d show up and botch that bit all up.”

 

Aurora shrugged and chuckled. “All I know from what the older courtiers have told me is that Knotgrass did indeed bless me with beauty. Flittle said I’d always be happy, and never be blue. Thistlewit had begun to gift me with something, but she was blown away from my cradle by a gust of wind as she said ‘you will find...’” No, no gift of song.”

 

The Seelie Queen’s teeth gnashed under pursed lips, and the disgusted face she made was comical. “Well, then you carry a tune well for having _learned as a human_. Will you actually sing it, instead of simply hum it?”

 

Suddenly shy, the dainty woman’s copper wings shuffled behind her, tucking in on themselves. “I-uh, alright. I suppose...” Taking a deep breath, she began to sing quietly as not to draw the attention of anyone else but her sewing partner. “One I love, two she loves, and three, she's true to me. All of my friends fell out with me because I kept your company. But let them say whatever they will; I love my love with a free good will…”

 

The front door of the cottage slowly creaked open to reveal Luna’s teasing eyes peaking around the edge. Into the room she twirled, her face lit up with victory at having been sneaky, and with joy at hearing her Mama sing. “One I love, two she loves, and three she's true to me. When I'm awake, I find no rest until his head lies on my breast. When I'm asleep I'm dreaming of my own, my dear, my one true love,” she warbled back at Aurora. “Whit’re you singing that song for, Mama? You’re in love with a lady and some man and you can’t choose either?”

 

“Whatever do you mean, Luna?” Aurora sputtered, her eyebrows knitting in consternation. “Did you just get back?”

 

“Mother’s song...” Luna wove her hand lazily in the air as if to make something that was invisible quite clear. “It is Mother’s song, right? Or do you have some deep, dark guarded romantic secret?” the faery princess stammered excitedly as she sat at the table. “We just arrived, yes. Surprise?”

 

“Neither. It’s just a song, Luna. Your Mother taught me many songs over the years,” Aurora bit back. After taking a breath, she was contrite for her tone. Reaching out, she cupped Luna’s cheek into her hand and trained her gaze into that of a loving mother. “I’m sorry, Lu. I don’t mean to be so sharp with you. I’m just nervous at the news you have to bring back, you sneak.”

 

Interrupting gaily, Isobel waltzed her way down the stairs, attempting to sing in response to the music that had awoken her. “One I love, two she loves, and three she's true to me. They tell me he's poor, they tell me he's young. I tell them all to hold their tongue. If they could part the sand from the sea, they never could part my love from me,” she yowled like a cat, her voice hoarse and out of tune. Flopping down on a side bench, she grinned at those around her – their faces of restlessness, surprise, and discomfort at her grating crooning. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep… I mean, you forgot the verse about Grandfather Stefan, Luna. You can’t forget that one,” she nodded satisfactorily to herself and began to eat her oatmeal.

 

Titania simply leaned away from the wheat-blonde haired princess, and covered her ears in a show of how she found the performance. “Someone bless Isobel with the gift of song, please.”

 

Luna smiled brightly and yanked a handful of Isobel’s hair so that her mouth missed the upturned spoonful of oatmeal and it met her nose instead. “Bel can sing. She just doesn’t want anyone to find her attractive, lest they whisk her off her feet.”

 

“Augh!” Isobel spat, wiping and blowing her nose into a hankie, but some fell back into her trencher. “That was my oatmeal, Lu!” she looked mournfully down at the bowl which she now considered contaminated.

 

Satisfied her point had been made, Luna slid her portion over to Isobel and raised an eyebrow. When no retort came from her sister, she stood to the back of her mama and faced Queen Titania. “Aye, the castle situation has been taken care of. It was one quite meddlesome councilor, Adkin mac Alec, Lord Alec’s heir. He came of age a month or two ago and was given Lord Alec’s seat that had been vacant for some time. You should hear the treacherous filth that exits his mouth! I’m loathe to say it, but the Earl mac Selbaig has been quite loud as well. I brought mac Alec and Caitriona back with me – Caitriona’s father, the Earl mac Selbaig - he’s threatening to send her to a nunnery should she not marry the man of his choosing soon,” the princess weaved her tale as her hands picked at her mama’s hair.

 

Leaning down, Luna murmured her wish to do up Aurora’s hair for the day. At her mama’s aquiescence, she began to plait the thick curls into braids. Luna knew in their culture that the bigger and thicker the braid meant the wearer was just as strong. “At any rate, Alexander is guarding the traitor for Mama’s justice. I figured we could gather everyone as witness after the sun’s fully risen.[1] I had wanted to ask Mother’s advice, but I take it she’s not here?” Magicking a lovely faerie gold tiara over the braided crown, she sighed lovingly at her work.

 

Aurora looked upwards and tried not to move her head. “Your mother is still abed. She’s been quite poorly these past weeks, staying up and worrying her head about you. When Diaval flew back and gave me the message last night that you would be back this morning, she finally allowed herself to rest.”

 

Looking around, Luna’s face was confused. “Where is Diaval?”

 

Titania looked up from her “needle”work and huffed. “That seems to be the question of the century, Princess. I’ve never seen a familiar stray so far before. He wouldn’t even step over the threshold to give your Lady Mother a missive, instead giving it to Queen Aurora outside like he’s something to hide.”

 

Aurora laughed, her eyes bright. “’Twould not be the first time Maleficent and Diaval quarreled.”

 

“Oh? And that is why I make your wedding gown, though you haven’t yet given Maleficent her answer?” the Seelie Queen snatched at the floating fabric, her face a victorious smirk.

 

Eyes darkening, Aurora looked down. “I don’t know if that is what has been bothering Maleficent. All I know is, she is hiding something. Until she stops talking in faerie circles trying to give me excuse after excuse as an answer, I shall not give her the answer she seeks.” The women Fae gave each other satisfied nods then, seemingly on the same team in this battle.

 

There was little noise for a few minutes, just the sounds of Isobel chewing her oatmeal and scraping her bowl. Luna fidgeted on her bench, giving questioning looks to Isobel, who tried to communicate with waggling eyebrows. Finally giving up, the elder of the two sighed. “Would someone kindly tell us what’s going on?” Luna asked primly.

 

Titania sat a bit straighter in her chair and tipped her chin upwards. “As a daughter, it’s none of your business. As the future Queen of the Highland Moors, your Protector and Lady Mother Maleficent has requested Queen Aurora’s hand in marriage.” Pausing for effect, she leaned forward and whispered conspiratorily, “But don’t put on your dancing shoes just yet. Your Mother is hiding a secret, and your Mama isn’t giving her yes until it’s revealed.” Leaning back up, she adopted a regal air once more and shot Aurora a meaningful look. “’Tis a shame, it would be a lovely double wedding on the seventh day of Midsummer.”

 

Aurora’s chin rose in response. “And how am I supposed to wheedle out what secret she’s hiding before then? It’s only two weeks from the fourteenth of Meitheamh.”[2]

 

“Oh, I suppose that question is answerable with a question, dear Aurora. Are you prepared to do battle for her heart?” Titania answered as she stood and walked into the kitchen area. “Luna, be a good girl and set the kettle to boil for me? I’ll prepare your Mother’s nerve tonic today, since she’s sleeping so late.”

 

Her wings rubbing together nervously, Aurora’s eyebrows knitted together. “What do you mean: do battle for her heart? Do you think some other has captured it besides me?”

 

Titania laughed mirthlessly as she began to pestle some herbs from her leather hip satchel. “Aurora, sweetling. Faeries may marry only one at a time, but we love many over our lifetimes. It’s the reality of living for so long: sometimes the person we love forever may be the person we despise for a moment. I’m not saying that Maleficent despises you now, no. I think you two have already overcome that bit...”

 

The Seelie Queen watched Luna bank the fire. As Luna looked to her and Aurora for a continuance of the conversation, Titania sighed and peered at Isobel. “Bel, darling? Could you go outside and gather more kindling and give us some time?”

 

Isobel’s eyes narrowed as she stood, quick to obey and to complain. “Aye, fine. Though, I don’t see how its good form for you all to keep secrets from me when we’ve been sitting here tarting on about Mother’s secrets.”

 

Titania’s nostrils flared and her eyes hardened. “Outside with you, lass. I needn’t explain myself except to say that this is grown woman talk, and you aren’t even betrothed yet. Your sister could learn from my advice to your mama since she is to be married soon, but _your_ mouth runs away with you. Out,” she pointed to the door.

 

“Go and see how Caitriona and Alexander are faring?” Luna suggested, smiling.

Isobel didn’t answer either, but swept out the door and closed it with a slam and a glare tossed over her shoulder.

 

Wincing, Titania looked at the bedchamber door. “Luna,” she whispered, “See if your mother is still sleeping.”

 

“All right,” Luna conceded suspiciously, walking to and laying her ear to the wooden door. “I hear snoring,” she murmured.

 

Grinning triumphantly, Titania waved her hand around the room and spoke an incantation. “Ciúin mar an ghaoth.[3] There, she won’t hear us unless we want her to.” Digging around some more in her pouch, she began to curse at it.

 

Intrigued, Aurora rose to walk to the butchers block table that lined the galley and peered into the mortar. “What more do you need? I usually just prepare her dried heather steeped for ten minutes with honey.”

 

Shaking her head, Titania kept at the pestle, grinding the dried plant fibers even further. “No heather in this, Aurora. It’s supposed to be chamomile, stinging nettle, and yarrow, with honey to hide the taste. I’m lacking the yarrow.”

 

At the recitation of the recipe, Luna giggled behind her hand, eyes glowing mischievously. “I’ve some yarrow in my bag, my Queen. It’s not dried yet, as I’ve just picked it.”

 

Placing the pestle down, Titania smirked at Luna. “The fresh yarrow will do. You know this recipe from the Unseelie court, I am assuming?”

 

“Oh, aye.” Luna nodded while grinning impishly. “Put more chamomile, it masks the bitterness of the yarrow. Increase the nettle exponentially, and she’ll be high as a bird.”

 

Aurora snatched the pestle from the countertop and held it aloft. While jumping backward, she hissed. “I’ll not have you giving Maleficent something evil!”

 

Giving Aurora a beseeching look, Luna reached for the marble tool in her hand. “Mama, hush! It’s just to loosen her lips a bit if you ask her what is wrong…a truth serum of sorts for faeries.”

 

Titania didn’t waste any time, and snatched the fresh yarrow from the butcher’s block, putting it in the mortar. “Honestly, Aurora. She’s being difficult – you must make her mind you, otherwise she’ll not take you seriously. I’ll even tell her ‘twas me who made the potion, if she asks.” The elder blonde held out her hand and snapped her fingers impatiently.

 

Groaning, Aurora handed back the pestle. “I don’t like this idea. My father drugged her the night he took her wings. What if she’s angry?”

 

Titania shook her platinum blonde hair and sighed as she pestled the yarrow. “We’re not going to drug her to sleep, for Goddess sakes. I’m afraid she’ll know the ingredients as soon as she tastes it; hence I’ve made it especially strong. We’ll put it in some small ale with plenty of honey, and hopefully she won’t know the wiser.” Doing so as she spoke, the faery Queen poured steaming water from the kettle and stirred the concoction with a twist of her finger above the ale mug. “Luna, go and fetch your Mother,” she ordered as she added a bit of ale to the steaming beverage.

 

Leaning forward, Aurora stage whispered, “If she knows what we’ve done as soon as she drinks it, what’s the point?”

 

Making a face halfway between a smile and a grimace, Titania held up the mug. “So she knows you mean business, dear one.”

 

As they both overheard Luna carrying on about the traitors in their midst and the one brought here for judgment to Maleficent as she dressed, Titania jerked her head back towards the table. She murmured the counter-hex to her quieting spell and placed the mug of small ale at Maleficent’s place on the table, settling into her chair to appear quite pleased with herself.

 

Aurora settled herself as well, though nowhere near as calmly. Her wings dithered about, and had to sit on them to keep still.

 

Maleficent entered the common room, stretching her wings and twisting at her hair that hung loosely. Sitting down at the end of the table nearest the door, she looked up at Aurora and gave the hint of a smile at the pile of blue lace in her lap. “What are you working on there, bean chèile?”

 

Aurora turned up her nose and beamed forcefully. “The edging for Luna’s wedding gown.”

 

Turning a wary eye towards Titania, she gestured at the bright cornflower and sky blue damask that lay folded next to the Seelie elder. “And you? More _edging_?”

 

Her great grand-aunt was not a particularly happy-go-lucky woman, so when she brightly smiled, going to far as to show her fang teeth in the gesture, Maleficent was taken aback. “Why no, Maleficent. This is Aurora’s gown,” Titania quipped lightly.

 

Sitting straight and glaring at Aurora, Titania, and finally at Luna – it occurred to her that they were all ridiculously chipper for the hour. “But Aurora hasn’t given me her answer, dear auntie,” Maleficent reminded, a harshness to her voice.

 

The faery Queen didn’t respond to the dig, but instead changed the subject. “I’ve come to an idea about the precarious situation of Caitriona mac Selbaig. Luna has informed us that her father is yammering on about how faeries have overrun the kingdom, and how he will not stand for so many women in power. He follows the new gods, and seeks to imprison the poor girl in a nunnery should she not marry soon.”

 

“And…” Maleficent gestured circularly with her hand.

 

“And well, why don’t you and Aurora circumvent the stodgy old man and request that she be one of Luna’s handmaidens? It would be an honor to Caitriona, and an insult to her windbag of a father. Besides, Luna needs company. Sometimes, the best thing to do with someone who is wandering is to put the thing you’d like them to focus on right in front of their face,” Titania replied measuredly.

 

Maleficent raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, and took a sip of her ale. Her lips frowned as she looked into the mug before taking another sip to swish around her mouth. “You wish to parade Sola’s love around Luna like some sort of dangling carrot? Is Luna some wild thing in need of entrapment?” Pausing to scrub at her tongue with her teeth, she continued. “No, don’t answer that. It is a good plan, though I don’t know if either girl will thank us for it. More importantly, what is in this ale? It’s revolting.”

 

Aurora leaned forward and placed her hand atop her mate’s. “You don’t like it? We decided to try something different instead of just the heather.” The blonde’s other hand came up to finger at her jade necklace nervously, and Maleficent’s eyes followed the motion.

 

“I despise that necklace,” she hissed forcibly before clamping her lips shut. Her eyes widened, and she picked up the mug that was half drained before staring in awe at the hubris of the women surrounding her. Taking another sip before directly spitting it back into the cup, she let the taste roll around her mouth once more. “Chamomile, which I understand. But stinging nettle and yarrow…” the pewter mug dropped from her hand to the table with a clunk, and the contents spilled onto the fabric runner.

 

Titania had been waiting for the moment when Maleficent would turn to flee, and when she saw the slightest rise of wings and shoulders, she pointed at the younger faery. _“Sit. Down.”_ The command wasn’t just that of a royal nature; the force behind it was preternatural as the Seelie queen’s fingertip glowed lilac. “Your intended wife has told me of your refusal to tell her what’s on your mind, niece. It would be quite the shame for Luna here to be married with both of her parents unmarried, hmm? So, enough of your shenanigans I say. Out with it, Maleficent – are you in dalliance with someone else?”

 

Maleficent was beyond furious, her teal and golden eyes staring down each person at the table. “Of course not!” she seethed. “I am a faithful faerie!”

 

Chuckling, Titania shook her head, “Name one time in our history that any one fae has kept faithful for all their years, Maleficent. Surely, someone has drawn your eye… or perhaps your heart? Has someone other than Aurora kissed those lips?”

 

Trembling with defeat, Maleficent hung her head and refused to speak.

 

“Recently?” Titania pushed, but there still was no answer. There was no rebuke, either.

 

“Mother!” Luna stood, shocked. Aurora gasped.

 

At that heartbreaking noise, Maleficent’s eyes sought Aurora’s fervently. “I didn’t! He did… he kissed me. I wouldn’t have welcomed it!”

 

“That’s where you crept off to the night before I left!” Luna retorted incredulously as she paced the room. “You woke up past midnight and drank a tisane. When I heard you fumbling around down here, I made to come down here but I fell back to sleep. You put me to sleep, didn’t you?”

 

A dangerous edge, sharper than the blade of a knife seeped into Aurora’s voice, “The morning you proposed to me?” The face of her mate was completely crestfallen, gulping madly against words that wished to spill forth from the enchanted brew.

 

Maleficent’s eyes swam with tears as she blinked rapidly. _“Yes.”_ The response sounded as if it had been torn from her heart, and it almost had Aurora soothing her hurt away immediately. Almost.

 

Crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow, Titania resumed her interrogation. “Who, then? One of my men?”

 

“No!” Maleficent sputtered, looking ill and more than slightly disgusted.

 

“Ah-ha! The corbie stole your kiss, then?” her aunt prodded, going down her list of possibilities.

 

Luna barked a laugh and stopped her maneuvering. “Surely not Diaval! He’s her familiar!”

 

Aurora merely sat forward, her hand cupping Maleficent’s cheekbone lovingly. “Malle, was it Diaval?” Her entire posture had changed, and was seemingly relieved.

 

Taking a shuddering breath, Maleficent’s eyes shut as she poured forth what she remembered. “He admitted his love for me, yes. I was… not surprised, though I was genuinely saddened for his suffering. _He’s my best friend_ , the _only_ one who kept me warm, fed, and sane until _you_.” She opened her eyes to look around then, at the stunned silence of the room. Luna stood by the fireplace slack jawed, while Titania sat probably imagining the many ways she could punish Diaval for the offense. But Aurora, her shining light… she merely smiled with the warmth of a summer sun and suddenly hugged her close.

 

“And you hid it from me because you thought I would be angry at you, or even Diaval? What kind of a heartless woman do you think I am?” Aurora teased. Turning serious again, she ran her hands through her mate’s silky brown hair in a comforting manner. “You do love him, though. I’ve known that… well, forever. But you realize, I can’t say yes to the proposal you made to me before.”

 

Maleficent drew back, stunned and hurt. “But, why? I didn’t return his kiss. I may love him, but not as I love you!”

 

Aurora rose and leaned in to whisper in her mate’s ear. “Because, I want you to ask me again properly. Not with all of this hanging over your head. Ask me soon?” Feeling Maleficent nod next to her cheek, she bent down to capture the faerie’s red lips gently.

 

Positively brimming with the need to dominate some part of the situation that she’d found herself so clearly at a disadvantage, Maleficent returned the kiss deeply while caressing Aurora’s cheeks with her hands.

 

Luna blushed deeply and averted her eyes, but Titania looked on. “Luna, remember what I had said earlier about a faery woman meaning business in her marriage? _This isn’t a good example.”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Aurora stomped through the underbrush, kicking at branches in her way. Lifting her skirts, she whipped through the trees in half-flight, half run.

 

“Diaval!” she screamed, waiting impatiently for his appearance.

 

After waiting another ten minutes, she called for him again. She may have called him other names as well, but it did the trick. The raven glided into the woods near the petite blonde faerie and cawed in question from the tree.

 

Aurora didn’t tell him what she needed, or why she’d interrupted his day. She pointed a finger angrily at him and ground out, “You! Into a man.” Magenta and blue magick spilled forth from her hand and zapped at him like a slap.

 

Diaval fell out of the tree mid-transformation, and rose to brush himself off. “And I thought Malle was the only one who could make me falter like a bleedin’ idgit, but it seems you can too, ‘Rora.”

 

Throwing her hands up, Aurora pushed at his shoulders with all of her strength. “You don’t… You don’t get to call her that! You… How could you, Diaval?!” her words were punctuated by her pushes and strikes.

 

Sensing the reason for the young woman’s anger, Diaval did not attempt to stop her pummeling but rather would step back just enough each time so that they fell lightly. As she continued to slap at him, he grasped her wrists ever so lightly to draw her closer into an embrace. She hugged him back, but continued to pound at his lower back as she bawled into his shoulder, calling him all sorts of foul names.

 

When Aurora seemed finished beating at him, he shrugged her off while holding her shoulders to look into her eyes. “Are ye’ mad I told her that I loved her, or that I kissed her? Or both?”

 

Aurora wrenched herself from his grasp. Ever surprising in her way of seeing good in all situations, she wiped the tears from her eyes and snarled at him, “Neither! I mean, I guess I am angry that you took so damned long to tell her! And I am very angry that you didn’t think of telling me first.”

 

Quizzical at this turn of events, Diaval crouched down and patted the ground next to him. Depositing herself next to him in a huff, Aurora crossed her arms and looked away. “And why would I ha’e told ye first, darlin’? I’d never want tae hurt ye,” he murmured.

 

“Because! Just… because; it would have saved a lot of hurt, don’t you think? She’s _always_ loved you, Diaval – I’ve known that from the moment you both introduced yourselves to me in the Moors that fateful day. For the longest time, I wondered if it was _you_ that didn’t love _her_ the same way. And then, we fell in love and it all just seemed so serendipitous that I didn’t give much thought to how this would turn out twenty years down the line.” Aurora rambled, grasping his hand so hard it began to hurt him.

 

Diaval squeezed her hand back and sighed deeply. “But then, ye might not have fallen in love with her, or at least allowed yourself tae. Ye would ha’e gone off and lived quite an unhappy life with Prince Phillip or _whomever_. Luna, Sola, and Isobel wouldn’tae been born. Maleficent’s heart would not have been so healed, I know. It were easy tae make the choice not tae state my intentions for the better good of all three of us then. I guess,” he paused to scratch the back of his neck, “it has just gotten harder over the years…”

 

Nodding, Aurora recognized the wisdom in his words. It didn’t mean she had to like the logic, or necessarily agree with Diaval, but he had always meant well for her and his Mistress. But what could be done to heal some forty years of hurt on Diaval’s heart? What could she do to heal the rift between the three of them that had for so long been each other’s friends and chosen family?

 

“I have an idea,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Now, just… stay still.” Leaning forward, she kissed Diaval softly and pulled away, her eyes shining with curiosity.

 

“Whit did’ye do that fer?!” Diaval scrambled backwards until his back hit a tree.

 

Aurora’s wings fluffed in ire and her face showed that she was hurt. “What, am I not pretty enough for you?”

 

Diaval shook his head vehemently and held his hands up to stop another advance. “No, ‘Rora! It’s not that at all… Me stealin’ Maleficent’s kiss was dangerous enough. I know ye’ were mad at me, but I donnae think you’d kill me. Me stealin’ your kiss? She’d off me for sure!”

 

“It’s not stealing if I give it away,” Aurora sang lightly as she crept closer.

 

Pushing her back again as gently as he could muster, Diaval’s response was curt. “No, ‘Rora. I donnae what fool plan ye got cooked up in yer head, but it’s not gonna work. Yer playin’ with fire!”

 

Clenching her jaw in determination, Aurora stood and looked down at the raven man who had been her friend for so many years. “Maleficent has asked me to marry her. I hope to say yes soon, when the time is right. If we marry, it will be before Luna – us in the morning and her and Alexander in the evening of the seventh day of Midsummer. You know what the faeries do on the seventh evening of Midsummer, Diaval?”

 

“They dance around like merry idgits, foolin’ around with each other for one night without cares to bless the season and… _No_ ,” he stammered.

 

Aurora rolled her eyes at the stubborn man. “Just be there, Diaval. Come to both weddings. Stay for the dance. _Dance with us_.” Sensing his resolve crumbling, she leaned down to kiss his forehead gently. “Please?”

 

He didn’t look at her golden visage when he responded, too ashamed to look upon the creature who embodied such a magnanimous nature; not trusting his emboldened heart to gaze upon her cerulean eyes that held such peace and _trust_. “I suppose I’d think about it,” he whispered.

 

The displacement of air and his silent transformation back into a raven was the only sign that Aurora had left the forest. Cocking his head and finally looking to the skies to see her figure dart away, he wondered if she knew how strong her magick was, or even so, how strong her heart.

 

[1] The sun’s fully risen – the morning has ended, typically 11:00 AM, or just before Mid Day (Noon.)

[2] Meitheamh – the month of June.

[3] Ciúin mar an ghaoth – Quiet as the breeze.


	34. Dhá Póstaí agus Sochraide (Two Weddings and a Funeral)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, I’ve responded to a fair amount of PMs regarding last chapter. Threesomes are 21st century inventions of sexual shaming, and not any part of Celtic pagan worship/dancing/drunken frolicking to honor the Summer season. Remember, as much as it makes us uncomfortable (even I as an author,) staying true to the characters and time period is essential for this fic as most of it is based on the Celtic Mythological Cycle. Now, that doesn’t mean we necessarily go off the deep end, either. As for what happens next... Read! :)
> 
>  
> 
> Reviews are hugged, squeezed, and called George.
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> Caoindeadh Na Mara/Amen – Mary McLaughlin & William Coulter (on Celtic Requiem Album)
> 
> The White Horse, Celtic Legend (Lyonesse album)
> 
> The Wedding, Enaid
> 
> Come My Lady, Heather Alexander
> 
> Morrigna, Dagda

 

 

****  


 

**“** **On **Midsummer's Night** (also known as _Midsummer Eve_ ) the fairies are at their gayest, **

**dancing merrily around and occasionally stealing beautiful maidens. In the Welsh tale of _Einion Las_ , **

**the fairies would sometimes allow mortals to join in their revel for that one night,**

**and they need not fear the normal dangers associated with dealing with the fae until the next sunrise.”**

 

Caitriona spit on her rag as she began polish one of Isobel’s many tiaras, trying not to let her mind wander. It was nearly impossible when the gilt, bronze, and precious gems reminded her of another head that used to wear them. She’d sniffle and clear her throat every few minutes to stifle the tears that threatened to fall, refusing the pointless emotions. ‘What good is crying over a dead faerie?’ Caitriona reminded herself, biting at her bottom lip.

 

Every few moments, there would be a twitch of a wing at the dressing table where Isobel readied herself for the day. Was she watching Caitriona? She hadn’t said so, but it made the raven-haired girl polish all the more quickly. Bel was a skittish girl – quick to fits of anger and crying. If she were lucky today, there would be none of that nonsense on Caitriona’s watch. As the elder by two years, she was taking her new responsibility of being Bel’s companion seriously. Granted, a majority of their childhood they had spent at odds with one another, constantly vying for Sola’s attentions and time. Caitriona had emerged the victor in that respect, more so as Isobel began to turn to books as friends rather than people.

 

“Well then, _Ish_ -bel. Look here? I’ve made this old hunk of metal shine like the sun. Though, don’t you think it’s a wee bit much for today’s festivities? All we’re doing is watching your sister and mothers listen to the arguments of the prisoner downstairs, and witness their justice,” Caitriona muttered as she held up the rather large crown.

 

Isobel peered over the edge of a wing, her eyes glittering. “What did you call me?”

 

“Ishbel. Sorry, do you not like nicknames? It’s how some of the northern tribes speak your name,” came the quick reply as the older girl stepped up to place the tiara firmly over the braided white-blonde hair and pin it securely.

 

 _“My name is Ih. So. Bel,”_ the faerie griped, enunciating each syllable as if Caitriona was daft. “And so what if my tiara is big? Nobody notices me any way. I could dance around naked as a priestess on the full moon and Mother wouldn’t blink an eye. Besides! Look at what you are wearing – what are those huge disks hanging from your head like a curtain of whirly-gigs?” Isobel scoffed and laughed rudely.

 

Narrowing her eyes, Caitriona snatched a few flowers from the vase on the dressing table and began to stuff them roughly into Bel’s braid. “They’re not whirly-gigs, _Princess_. It’s Pictish, and they are my mother’s family talismans. I thought you of all people would understand their meaning; your nose is constantly in books.”

 

Unfeeling teal eyes suddenly brightened as Isobel grasped at the bronze disks. Her hunger for new knowledge wasn’t abated by the agitated squawk of dismay by Caitriona at her handling the headdress. “Your Mother is a Pict, truly? Was she tattooed all over? _Are you tattooed all over?! Can you shoot bow straight across the narrows to Britannia too?_ ”

 

Grasping at the invasion of pale hands on her hair, Caitriona very nearly growled. “Of course I’m not tattooed; what’re you a numpty? Neither was my Mother: she was a noble woman, not a Woad!”[1] Taking a deep breath to assist her patience that was admittedly running quite thin, Caitriona straightened the dangling talismans as best she could and glared at the naïve girl-woman standing in front of her. How was it that this tiny, infuriating, overly powdered creature could take out an entire battalion of men and Fae with her magick, but she didn’t know the slightest thing about proper displays of love, kindness, or joy? Isobel Yvaine of the Highland Moors had to be the most mercurial being this side of the Sruth na Maoile.[2]

 

“Did I make you angry?” a singsong voice taunted her from beneath burgundy lips.

 

Caitriona merely snorted and turned away to get the Princess’s shoes for the day.

 

Isobel stepped towards her, curious and unabashed. “What is the big deal any how? You touched my tiara. Seven hells, I don’t even know if it is Sola’s or mine – there’s two of everything here. Does it bother you to wonder if you’re _touching her things again?_ ” The innuendo was laid on thickly, and Bel crossed her arms for effect.

 

Standing upright from the floor slowly, Caitriona’s face became fierce in its rage. Her quiet, rasping tone belied the quivering need to bash Isobel’s face in, but she still allowed a hand to fist in the girl’s dress, near her neck. Dragging the princess upright a bit so that they were eye to eye, she hissed. “ _It matters_ because my Mother is dead. _It matters_ because I made it very clear that I did not want you to touch it. As for your sister, she was honorable towards me in _every way_ – unlike you, vicious beast. Can’t you just be nice for a day? Just one day!”

 

Isobel raised a green-glowing hand well where both girls could see it, and she looked at Caitriona as if she’d won the argument simply by her gesture.

 

“Loose it, I dare you,” ice blue eyes flashed their ire.

 

Realizing she hadn’t measured the resilience of her new handmaiden very well, Isobel glowered and lowered her hand.

 

At that, Caitriona dropped the fistful of Isobel’s dress, raised an eyebrow and murmured “Thank you.” She promptly began to make her way downstairs.

 

“Hey!” Isobel screeched as she chased after the maddening young woman. “Hey, don’t just walk away from me! I wasn’t done talking to you yet. And don’t thank me – I didn’t do anything. _Faeries hate to be thanked!_ ”

 

Caitriona stopped at the breakfast table to grasp a handful of berries and dance towards the front door, “I know faeries despise being thanked, Princess. That’s why I thanked you.”

 

Near the fireplace, Luna peered over a shoulder with wide eyes at the comedy/tragedy playing out. Aurora began to gape; while Titania was coughing and complaining about the dusty air to cover her too obvious laughing.

 

Maleficent merely reached over to squeeze Aurora’s hand and mutter, “Don’t look at them. Don’t…” from the side of her mouth as she continued to scribble on a parchment with her free hand.

 

“I didn’t do anything for you worth thanking, nor would I ever!” Isobel shouted, wings rustling together.

 

Pondering for a moment by tapping a finger to her lips, Caitriona smirked. “I disagree. I called you a vicious beast and by all rights, you could have struck me. I expected you to, but you didn’t. If you won’t allow me to thank you, then I demand a recompense in exchange for your thanks, so that you might always remember this very moment.”

 

Isobel’s eyes flashed dangerously as she bared her teeth. “I _promise_ I won’t murder you in your sleep…tonight _._ ”

 

“ _Thank you_ ,” Caitriona whispered as she triumphantly exited the front door, with Isobel hot on her heels to argue some more.

 

As the pair exited, those inside let go the breath they’d been holding. Titania finally began to laugh in earnest, going so far as to slap her thighs in merriment. Maleficent kept writing, but the left side of her lips quirked into a half-smile.

 

Aurora’s palm was flat against her chest, where her heart galloped in anxiety. “Dear Gods, how long before they actually do kill one another?”

 

Holding up a finger in a request for pause, Titania took a sip of her wine. Setting it down, she jangled her coin purse and threw three silver sceatts on the table to roll in front of the parchment. “Maleficent, take the bet. I say one of them is going to ‘flee.’ Do you say ‘fight,’ or…”

 

“Don’t you dare!” Aurora interrupted with a yelp, snatching up the coins.

 

* * *

 

Alexander stood straight and tall as he unfurled the parchment, squinting to read the blurry cursive that had smudged when Maleficent rolled it while wet. “Adkin mac Alec! You have been brought here to beg for mercy from their Majesties the Queens Aurora and Maleficent, Protector of the Highland Moors, the Queen of the Seelie, Excellency of the Most High Titania and the Princess Luna, intended heir to the throne of the Highland Moors. You have been charged with conspiracy against the crown, treason, and sedition – including but not limited to the crime of leasing-making.[3] It has been found on good authority that you are guilty of all, non-withstanding slanderous and injurious rumors against their Majesties, such as conversing openly regarding their status as women of equal-station and their recent bout of illness. Some have said you even went so far to wish the Queens regnant to perish from their condition. What say you?”

 

A filthy, sweaty man no older than eighteen knelt with his hands bound in front of the gathering of royalty, while Caitriona and the Seelie envoys encircled them. He spat at Maleficent, and would have made his mark had she not unceremoniously stepped back to avoid the arcing spittle. “Of course I am guilty! And guilty of what, I ask? Demanding that this kingdom be returned to its former glory – without the Fair Folk at the helm! There isn’t one damned human left besides the council and the nobility ever since our dear Queen Aurora’s mortal soul was damned to the pits of Hell by the winged devil’s spawn!”

 

He paused to cough, having quite a dry mouth after spending the better part of a night and two days tied to a tree in the woods, guarded by Alexander. “That malicious animal _Sola_ wasn’t long for the world – Our Lord struck her down with the might of his fallen angels in justice for her unnatural ways!”[4]

 

Adkin’s brown eyes were wild as he looked upon the assembled group that would witness him. Kissing the ground, he then began to recite loudly. “It is God who suffered them, though He restrained them. They landed with horror, with lofty deed,  
in their cloud of mighty combat of specters upon a mountain of Conmaicne of Connacht, without distinction to discerning Érenn, and without ships a ruthless course. The truth was not known beneath the sky of stars, whether they were of heaven or of earth…[5] Well, I say they are from Lucifer’s Hell, and his Queen is the horned soith[6] o’er there! Death be upon the demon Maleficent!”

 

Alexander’s face could no longer contain his displeasure at the putrescence exiting the mortal’s mouth. He had glanced around the clearing during the explanation of the man’s crimes, and his heart hardened at every thing he saw. Luna stood tall and rigid as a rail, her face stony but ashen with sadness. His grandmother looked positively livid, magick swirling deep in her irises waiting to be unleashed upon the unsuspecting sod. Queen Aurora was disconsolate of course, always trying to believe the best in people until the gritty end. Her delicate hand had made its way around his màthair-chèile’s waist, perhaps to restrain the towering woman. Maleficent was a wild card – deadly in both calm and rage. She _looked_ composed at the moment, but Alexander wasn’t fool enough to think that meant she was.

 

Isobel paced like a wildling back and forth behind the assembled royals. She snarled under her breath, whispering to herself like the goddess Anann[7] waiting to wail her vengeful call for death to rain upon Adkin mac Alec’s head. Caitriona mac Selbaig, quite the plucky human, dodged around the _not so gentle Annie_ to grasp at Maleficent’s left hand.

 

His mother-of-his-heart was momentarily startled as she looked upon the little mortal gazing upwards with both ferocity and entreaty.   “Majesty, his mind’s been poisoned by his family and my father. Please, allow him a chance to repent? If he does not for his most foul representation of my heart’s truest desire, I shall smash his skull in myself.”

 

Acquiescing gracefully, Maleficent nodded to Alexander.

 

“Do you, Adkin mac Alec, repent of these vile notions as of today and forever? If not, you will be sentenced to justice by the Laws of both the Kingdom and the Fae to death by beheading,” he warned.

 

Adkin sneered. “Never shall I atone for speaking the truth! Faerie justice, indeed. I do not wish the disobedient daughter of my Lord mac Selbaig to beg on my behalf! You’ll be off to the nuns before you know it, girl… Mark my words.” He smiled malevolently at the young woman. “I hear tell your father couldn’t make your mother obey either, no matter how hard he beat her… godless barbarian that she was. May the Lord strike you down as he did your witch of a mam and the demon’s spawn!”

 

Completely off-put by the indecency of the being kneeling before him, Alexander merely shrugged at the Queens for their command. He didn’t have a chance to ask them for their final judgment, though. Tearing away from Maleficent’s grip, Caitriona raised a cry shriller than any Caoineadh. She grasped at the Queen’s sword hilt, the scabbard of which was loosely tied to her waist.

 

Too frenzied to listen to Maleficent’s pleas to wait, she unsheathed the silver and bronze blade and swung it firmly down against the neck of the traitor with a mighty scream. Adkin’s head rolled towards the teenager, and instead of kicking it away in fright like most human lasses her age, Caitriona picked it up by the hair. Holding the bloody face aloft for the envoys to see, her eyes glazed with revenge served cold: _icy cold._

 

After the crowd of faeries had stopped cheering, she placed Adkin’s head in the basket set aside for such a purpose and walked slowly back towards the Queens.   Realization at her pre-emptive actions made the young woman blush, but she stared all in the eye as she curtsied. “I… am sorry, your Majesties,” she supplicated.

 

Aurora looked pained but forgiving, while Titania rolled her eyes and muttered “Good riddance to the fool.”

 

Maleficent reached forward with her talons and brought the girl into a severe embrace – both painful and comforting. “Do you _truly regret_ killing him, Caitriona?” the tallest faerie demanded an answer.

 

“No,” was Caitriona’s quiet, but honest reply.

 

“Then you are not sorry,” Maleficent sighed as she palmed the mortal girl’s cheeks, staring into the blue eyes with equal parts compassion and reproach.

 

Alexander knew his màthair-chèile well enough that he did not miss the look of foreboding that crossed her teal and golden eyes as well. Luna didn’t miss it either – meeting his gaze across the clearing and tilting her head as she mindlessly ran Sola’s blade through a rag to wipe the blood away… as though she’d done it a thousand times before.

 

 _‘Step one of our newly married household,’_ Alexander contemplated silently. _‘Hide all the knives.’_

 

* * *

 

 

 _“Psst! Maleficent!”_ a most annoying voice called her name just over a whisper, but it sounded like he was shouting to her foggy mind.

 

Alexander stomped through the Moors, approaching her Rowan tree that was partially healed. The Rowan was ecstatic to be one with her again, and lent many thrushes and greenwood to knit a new hammock. It wasn’t very high above the ground, as the Unseelie had burnt the most supportive branches above in their desecration of her Protectorate.

 

“Here, Alexander…” her voice trailed off into a yawn, and she rubbed at her ears as they popped. Groaning, she curled back in on herself and hefted a wing over her face to block the rising sun.

 

Thankfully, the young faerie had followed her voice easily enough and stopped his infernal racket. Unfortunately, he opened his mouth once more.

 

“So, do I need to ask when the last time you drank that much mead was? You look like the bahookie of an otter during a dry spell. You hold out for five damn days, and the sixth night of Midsummer you go on and get yourself completely knackered,” Alexander continued to complain.

 

Maleficent scrubbed her tongue against her teeth and hissed at the noisy male. “I think my breath smells like an otter’s rear end, too. Come here and give your mother-to-be a good morning kiss,” she sniped.

 

Alexander made a disgusted face and shoved a dogwood chew-stick and a handful of mint leaves at her, which she snatched away and began to use promptly to both of their reliefs. “Good morning to you too, you right besom,” he babbled. “Oh! Good morning Alexander… How nice of you to bring me a tooth brush and my wedding gown so that I don’t have to get married smelling like the bottom of a wine barrel!” he simpered, mimicking a woman’s voice.

 

Rolling out of her hammock and grasping a somewhat clean robe from a nearby branch, Maleficent made towards the edge of the cliff. “Will you _shut up_ , and turn around? I need to bathe. I’ll be right back,” she warned.

 

Holding his hands up in surrender, the Seelie Prince spun around quick as lightning. As he heard a splash downstream and the chorus of gobbledy-gook from the water nymphs that were probably arranging Maleficent’s hair into some flower-laden monstrosity, he snuck a peek into the linen wrapping around the heavy gown. Spotting riotous cornflower blue, he stifled a laugh. Fingering the fabric further, his smile widened exponentially as he spied large-weave lace with nothing but faerie gossamer between. Oh, this was _priceless_.

 

“I am coming back up,” the dawn's bride cautioned, her voice wary.

 

He shook his head at her overly private nature. “Well, come on then bathing beauty. We haven’t got all morning, you know. The draoi[8] don’t like to be kept waiting.” Passing the linen wrapped robes over his shoulder, he waited for the indignant noises that were sure to follow. One, two...

 

“What is this?” Maleficent exclaimed, tossing the gauzy material around as if to find another piece.

 

His back still turned, Alexander replied as calmly as he could. “Your wedding gown?”

 

Gritting her teeth, the elder faerie tossed the flimsy dress back into the linen. _“Where is the rest of it?!”_

 

“I believe that’s it, mathair-cheile. I’m sure Grandmother and her handmaids sewed it to be rather becoming,” he commented drily.

 

Hearing the rustling of wings and fabric behind him, Alexander surmised that Maleficent had gotten over whatever trepidation about the gown she had in favor of getting to the field where Aurora and the draoi waited. A sizeable group of citizens had woken up early to sit on the hilltop nearby to witness the sacred event from a respectable distance, but he didn’t tell her that lest it irritate her further.

 

“I’m presentable, I believe...” The recently sixty-year-old Fae didn’t sound very convicing.

 

Turning to gaze on the lanky figure robed in bright blue, Alexander tried to avert his eyes from her bosom. The gown was sewn in such a way that the lady-like swells and valley was impossible to ignore, but she’d left on her night-shift in an attempt at decency. It didn’t help much.

 

“I-uh don’t think you’re supposed to wear anything beneath it, Maleficent,” he commented, offering an arm and gulping.

 

Her talons dug into his forearm. “Haud yer wheesht if you want to keep your eyes,” she advised caustically. Craning her neck to look around the woods as they exited the Moors after a time, her chin finally settled into what looked like defeat.

 

“Looking for your familiar?” Alexander inquired sympathetically. “I haven’t seen him around the past few days. I’ll be glad to stand in as your closest male relative, if you’ll allow me.”

 

The horned faerie’s voice trembled as she answered, “Oh.” Her eyes were wan, an odd look on her face that he’d never seen before. Usually when her brows furrowed and she squinted, it was in anger. Instead of wrinkling or raising her eyebrows, her entire face seemed to relax into doleful acceptance.

 

Forlorn at the turn of events, Alexander sought to make her spirits bright once more. “Let’s go down our list, hmm? Honor escort? Check. Sola’s sword? Don’t worry, it’s clean and I’ve got it here, so check. Fresh breath? Double check. Beautiful bride? Definitely, check,” he grinned widely in her face and tried not to stare at the wreath of goldenrod, sea lavender and purple loosestrife that framed her horns, courtesy of the water nymphs.

 

She didn’t respond except to shut her eyes and grip his arm almost painfully as they crested the hilltop. The cheers and well wishes of the farmers and gentry assembled alongside them did nothing but make her talons dig deeper. One arm crossed defiantly against proud breasts, her jaw clenched and a blush began to creep up her swan-like neck.

 

Looking down into the valley, Alexander could see where Aurora waited with their daughters, his grandmother, and a few witnesses with the draoi. His other mother-of-his-heart looked resplendent as she shaded her eyes to view them at the top of the hill. He had to calm an older, more experienced, vastly cantankerous female faerie down and quickly – before it all went to bunk.

 

“ _Easy, easy_...” he coddled like he would a spooked mare. “Look, Maleficent... Just think of when you asked Aurora to marry you. Remember how happy it made you?”

 

“Which time?” she quipped.

 

Alexander huffed then. “The time she said _yes_.”

 

_Aurora sat up in bed, weaving together a sheaf of fresh cut wheat to hang. It would dry for the next week and a half for Luna to carry with her during the wedding festivities. If Maleficent was going to ask her again to marry, it would have to be very soon. Midsummer was barreling towards them like a runaway bull._

_Creeping into their nest, Maleficent adopted a sultry gleam to her eye and tried to nibble on her_ _bean chéile_ _’s_ _neck where she knew the pulse would quicken and throb underneath her lips._

_Ducking Maleficent’s advances, Aurora swayed to the side and smiled serenely. “Tsk. It seems you’ve forgotten that you don’t get any of this until you do something very particular.”_

_Tackling the blonde underneath her angular torso and long legs, a playful growl escaped exposed teeth poised halfway between smile and snarl. “Marry me, Aurora.”_

_“Ask me…” breathless gasps came from the tiny woman’s coral pink lips as her chest was assaulted by nips and suckling kisses. “Nicely,” she mewled._

_“Marry me. Please?” Maleficent blew into an slightly-elfin ear as her long fingers ran ever so lightly over curvy hips so different than her own, and a thumb dipped down to tease her love’s arousal even further. The granting of her mate’s wings had certainly enhanced senses and abilities, but could never erase the parts of human beauty that the faerie craved from the gentle and soft woman beneath her. For that, she was forever grateful._

_Groaning and laying back further against the pillows, Aurora knew she was a lost cause. “Oh, yes…” she trembled and felt both hair and feather stand on end._

_Eyes more golden than teal in the firelight glowed iridescently with pleasure at that word. “You’ll marry me?”_

_Aurora’s head came off the pillow, and she somehow managed to glare and purr at the same time. “Only if you don’t stop what you’re doing right now. **Don’t stop**.” _

Blinking her eyes open, Maleficent found herself in the center of the faerie circle still clutching Alexander’s arm for dear life. Somehow, the smart young male had maneuvered her to walk while she reminisced.

 

A stunning vision in angelic blue silk damask and delicate lace stared back at her, lips stretched wide over a beatific smile. The woman’s golden curls were knit around her flower crown, creating a thicket of nature and braids atop her head like she was Danu herself, spilling forth life from her imaginings. “There you are,” the goddess cooed.

 

Maleficent nodded, her head feeling particularly heavy today. Yes, here she was.

 

Most of the druids’ ceremony flew past her ears only to be regaled to her later in the evening; even the presenting of the sword[9] which she thought would be important to her heart. However, there were words that Maleficent would never forget no matter how many centuries she’d live.

 

A man’s voice reminded her to repeat the words he intoned, and she tried her very best. “I take you my heart, at the rising of the moon and the setting of the stars; to love and to honor through all that may come, through all our lives together. In all our lives, may we be reborn to meet, know and love again, and remember one another always. You are blood of my blood, and bone of my bone. I give you my body, that we two might be one. I give you my spirit, ’til our life shall be done.”

 

As Aurora repeated the same verses to her, warmth enveloped her heart that she’d never recalled feeling. The ribbons of the hand fasting cordage tickled at her wrists and knuckles as it was tied and blessed by the short human mystic, and it was official.  

 

Rushing forward in her excitement that the ceremony was over, Maleficent nearly bumped noses with her wife. She was promptly soothed with tender fingertips over her cheekbones and kisses sweeter than any honey wine in the world.

 

 

* * *

 

**^^Luna and Alexander^^**

* * *

 

 

Swaying slightly as he stumbled to sit on a log next to the pitiful man in black, Alexander decided that another swig of mead from his tankard couldn’t hurt.

 

Covering a belch politely with his fist, the Seelie prince frowned at the interloper who refused to drink, dance, or make merry. “You’re a damn coward, corbie,” he deduced.

 

Diaval looked on to the Fair Folk dancing around the gigantic bonfire, intermingling with brave humans who had come close to watch and been invited to dance. “Ne’er claimed I weren’t, Prince Charming,” he retorted, grimacing when he heard _her laugh_ again through the pipe music and crackling flames.

 

Alexander followed the noise with his eyes and burst out in a guffaw at the sight. Diaval peered through the darkness with his sharp eyes and spotted the source of amusement just through the edge of the forest. Maleficent and Aurora were completely blasted, falling over each other and another Seelie female named Agrippa in an attempt to get up and dance some more. Every time the three tried to rise, one would drop and the others would inevitably fall. This went on for a time before they gave up, singing gleefully with the tunes the musicians played while drinking more.

“She’s never smiled or laughed like that before, Alexander,” Diaval sighed wistfully. “I used to think I could get her there – you know, over time wean her into fun things, or crazy situations she’d never put herself in because of the past. With Aurora, she just does it: head on, horns blazing. I can’t give her that,” he gestured to the pile of frolicking faeries.

 

Somehow, Maleficent found her legs serviceable enough to stand and lift Aurora into her arms once more. As the music began to speed up into a lively reel, they danced and cavorted about madly without a single care in the world.

 

“So, let me understand this; Maleficent has never been to a Midsummer’s dance, or laughed like a ninny while being completely drunk on mead?” Alexander asked, disbelieving.

 

Diaval laughed, but it was empty. “You don’t know a lot about your mate’s mother, do you? She was an orphan twice by the age of eleven, you bleedin’ idgit. Who was supposed to take her to wherever the Bealtaine, Midsummer, or Samhain festivals were that year, me? I hadn’t the slightest idea how to teach a twenty-year old woman scorned _how to be a faerie like her own kind…_ _without wings_. Besides, she was so filled with hatred and jealousy then, I doubt she would have enjoyed it.”

 

Alexander’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “How ironic that a human girl that she cursed was and still is her true love. How much more satirical is the fact that the once-human-girl turned faerie is leading her through the steps of the life she ought to have had all those years ago? I’m just glad I was born too late to see the worst of her. I rather like my new mother.”

 

Offense bloomed in Diaval’s eyes then. “She wasn’t _worse_ , just different. She was more serious, cautious, and…”

 

“Mean. Tetchy. Positively unreasonable,” Alexander sassed back.

 

“Says the man who just married the miniature of Maleficent this very evening – replete with the ability to kill you three ways! Shall you choose magick, bow and arrow, or swordplay for your final day on this planet, Prince?” Diaval joked, pointing at the small home lit up from top to bottom with candles.

 

From the cottage, female voices tittered and chattered as they spilled forth from the front door. Luna leaned out and cupped her hands around her mouth. “’Xander! Come to bed, and bring more mead!”

 

Bumping shoulders with the raven man, Alexander waggled his eyebrows. “See? My kind of woman.” Pausing for effect, he looked over his wing at Diaval.   “I’ve already hidden all sharp objects.”

 

* * *

 

Daylight streamed through the Rowan as Maleficent moaned. Without remembering how, she’d fallen asleep face down on a thick branch, and not in her comfortable hammock.   Her head pounded with each heartbeat, and not for the first time in her life she wished the sun would go back down. This time, it wasn’t to match her mood. No, today she just wanted more sleep.

 

“Oh, my poor Malle,” Aurora whispered from a few branches above. “I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t think you’d want to sleep at the cottage last night, or wake up in a strange bed in Titania’s... wherever. So, I brought us home.”

 

“Home…” Maleficent exhaled, hugging the branch below and memorizing once again how the rough bark felt on her cheek.

 

* * *

 

[1] Woad – (Isatis tinctoria) A Northern Scottish plant, astringent and hallucinogenic. Also a name for a Pictish warrior, renowned for their “tattoos,” and for their immeasurable skill with bow and arrow.

[2] Sruth na Maoile – The North Channel, which separates present day Scotland and Northern Ireland. In the time of the story, it would have separated the kingdoms of Dal Riata and Ulaidh.

[3] Leasing-making – Scottish term for the French word “Lèse-majesté,”from the Latin _laesa maiestas_ , "injured majesty"; in English, also _lese-majesty_ , _lese majesty_ or _leze majesty_ ) is the crime of violating majesty, an offence against the dignity of a reigning sovereign or against a state.

[4] As Christianity began to dominate the religious presence, the Legends of the Tuatha Dé Danann were twisted by monks into tales of good kings and “fallen angels,” stuck between Heaven and Hell for repenting to God as they fell. They did not want parishioners to look kindly on the “Fair Folk,” and would tell frightening stories of the Unseelie and how they were the punishment that awaited sinful souls prior to making their way to Purgatory or Hell.

[5] **_Lebor Gabála Érenn_** ( _The Book of the Taking of Ireland_ ) is a collection of Christian pseudo-historical poems and prose narratives that purports to be a history of Ireland and the Celtic tribes from the creation of the world to the Middle Ages. There are a number of versions, the earliest of which was compiled by an anonymous writer in the 11th century. It synthesized narratives that had been developing over the foregoing centuries. Today, most scholars regard the _Lebor Gabála_ as primarily myth rather than history.

[6] Soith – a “bitch,” a spiteful or unpleasant woman.

[7] In Celtic mythology, Anann is identified as one of the personal names of the Morrígan. She is depicted as predicting death in battle. As a goddess of cattle, she is responsible for culling the weak. She is therefore often referred to as "Gentle Annie" in an effort to avoid offense, a tactic that is similar to referring to the fairies as "The Good People" or the “Fair Folk.”

[8] Draoi – (Gaelic,) Druid – a priest, magick user, or soothsayer in the ancient Celtic religions.

[9] Presenting of the sword – Scottish tradition; a family sword is given from one party to the other, with promises of protection and a vow to pass the sword on to the first born child. In M&A’s case, Sola’s sword had already done both (technically.)


	35. Grá a Daonna (A Human’s Love)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi readers! I hope you all enjoy this chapter; I’ve included a flashback requested by many of you that wasn’t originally necessary for the plot, but it fit well. I’ll still eventually do a one-shot for it, but a little bit can’t hurt! 
> 
> As always, reviews are cherished. They really help!
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:  
> Under High Branches, Mychael Danna  
> Aurora in Faerieland, Maleficent Motion Picture Soundtrack  
> Black is the Colour, Celtic Woman

**“I trust the red sun setting,**   
**the leafless November trees.**   
**On Monday morning I look forward**   
**fearlessly to Friday’s eve.**   
**But humans are not as reliable**   
**as nature, as trees.**   
**I wonder if you’ll come back;**   
**I trust only that you leave.”**

**  
― Ellen Wittlinger, _Hard Love_**

 

* * *

 

Lamenting the fact that she’d drank so much honey wine, Maleficent ambled slowly through the Moors with Aurora at her side. Every so often, she’d stop to grab at a tree limb, cup a hand over her lips and turn away from her mate. Shuddering her wings, she’d push off as if nothing had happened, but the tiny woman next to her knew better.

 

“Just a bit farther yet, and someone else at the cottage will know what to do,” Aurora trailed off, grasping a hand between her own to lead the woozy wife to the border’s edge. Spotting the smoke from a chimney in the distance, she breathed a sigh of contentment. She knew limited things about herb healing; remembering to chew a bay leaf to boak up the spiders her “aunties” had fed her once. That wouldn’t exactly work for Maleficent now, who was clutching her stomach while cursing an apparently “demon sent” headache.

 

As they came to the clearing just outside of the cottage, several faeries could be seen lounging about the trees and ground in their bedrolls. Aurora blushed at the undressed state of many, including some humans whom had stayed the night. Maleficent caught the blush and waggled a curved eyebrow at her mate. “Their dancing has exhausted them. I’d hazard a guess that none of these humans will leave the troupe.”

 

“None? What about their families, and friends?” Aurora was scandalized, and tugged lightly on the taller woman’s hand to pause.

 

Stopping to turn slowly, Maleficent realized that her answer had to be worded gently. Her _bean chèile_ had a soft heart, and would most likely make a commotion if not placated. Musing the words beneath pursed lips a moment before speaking, her hand waved at the sleeping forms. “They chose to dance with us, Aurora. We didn’t steal them. The humans who stayed the night were quite happy to do so, I am sure. If they made exchanges of pleasure or food and drink with us, it’s not surprising that we’d ask some of their time in return.”

 

Aurora’s response was airy but sarcastic. “Time, hmm?”

 

Nodding slowly while avoiding making eye contact, Maleficent murmured, “Yes. Time.”

 

“And if I had been able to return to you on the eve of my sixteenth birthday, how much _time_ would I have spent in the Moors?” the Queen inquired, her copper red wings beginning to glisten in the morning sun.

 

Sensing an argument brewing, Maleficent made her way towards the cottage door and talked over her shoulder. “As long as you would have liked to stay, _mo chroí_.”

 

Not about to be ignored or talked in circles, Aurora jogged to keep up with her mate’s long limbs. Amazingly, she reached the door first and opened it. Now Aurora knew that Maleficent was truly feeling poorly: the woman would have never allowed her to open a door, or best her in a game of speed. Entering the home, she smiled at the sight of all children and family guests accounted for at the kitchen table, except for Luna and Alexander. _That_ wasn’t particularly surprising.

 

“Back so early?” Titania commented off handedly, not even looking up from her many parchments that she’d been scribbling at. “And here I thought newly married couples stayed abed for a month or so in this part of the world, drunk out of their gourds.”

 

Maleficent looked positively green at that statement. “A... month? An entire month of being drunk?”

 

“Indeed. Seems it makes bonny bairns to be born in human time by next Bealtaine. But what do I know? I’m only just under a thousand years old,” the Seelie Queen remarked. “You two needn’t have come back so quickly. I could have handled the beast and her handmaiden. I had Alexander and Luna retire to my home last night; the better to stay away from Maleficent’s sensitive ears.”

 

Caitriona and Isobel, who had been sitting at the table eating their breakfast gawped at the woman’s audacity, but smartly stayed silent.

 

Clearing her throat and rolling her eyes, Maleficent retorted and motioned towards the parchments, “Yes well, good idea at that. You’re always so expedient to put your chess pieces into play; it’s amazing with all the intrigues you’ve been involved in that you still somehow manage to survive the ire and wrath of those around you.” She then sat and rested her head down on the table atop crossed arms, not even bothering to look up when her horns knocked over a bowl of preciously expensive salt.

 

Aurora smiled sweetly from the butcher block. “Says the sixty-year-old faerie who has consistently been the bane of human royalty around these parts since her conception.” Turning her attention to Titania, she adopted a shy and nearly girlish face that always seemed to help the taciturn Queen acquiesce to her requests. “I don’t suppose you might put your wealth of knowledge to use in teaching me some herbs?”

 

Curious now, Titania put her quill down completely and rose from her chair. “Whatever for, dear? I’m happy to have a distraction from Oberon’s missives that are currently up to my neck, and I’m always glad to assist an _appreciative_ soul.” She sneered backhandedly at Maleficent’s supine figure as she walked towards Aurora.

 

“I seem to have quite the headache after all the festivities. Perhaps something to help settle the stomach and relieve me of this awful pounding?” the shorter blonde cheeked as she threw a gentle nod towards the pitiful figure that was fidgeting to get comfortable at the table.

 

Shaking her head and smirking, Titania pulled at a few ingredients from the drying line and some from her pouch. Making sure that Aurora could see the mortar well, she began. “I doubt we need an emetic, so we’ll leave the laurel out. No, this calls for spearmint,” she paused to hold up the slightly curled and fuzzed spiky leaf, “feverfew, quite the useful plant...” the faerie threw in a few button sized daisies, “and finally white willow bark.” Sprinkling a good handful of the woodsy scented slivers on top of the leaves and flowers, she handed Aurora the pestle and motioned for the younger Queen to begin grinding.

 

Caitriona looked on with piqued interest, while Isobel ran her fingertips slowly through her mother’s hair that had cascaded onto the table. “Won’t the white willow act as a sedative as well in that amount?” the human teenager questioned.

 

Her eyes betraying surprise at the wisdom spoken, Titania nodded quickly. “Very good, Caitriona. Yes, that’s partially why we use it in this tonic. It puts grumpy Fair Folk who drink too much quick to bed. Headache or no, sleep does them good.”

 

Caitriona ducked her head and blushed at the praise, while Isobel stuck out her tongue and rubbed at her nose in an attempt to call her companion’s foul.

 

Maleficent hiccoughed and spoke into the tablecloth. “I can _hear_ you, great grand-aunt.”

 

Gritting her teeth, Titania glared. “Then hear me again and remember how you feel today always. Nobody in their right mind would have drank so much after not having partaken for so many years. You simply cannot begin to imbibe on a whim after forty years of not, no matter how protected you feel.”

 

Eyes blazing with hurt, Maleficent lifted her head to glower in the Seelie Queen’s direction. “Do not speak to me of forty years ago, especially in this company. I do not shame you for your own past.” she hissed viciously. Wings fluffed out in offense and knocked the chair back in their owner’s haste to retreat from the kitchen.

 

Aurora watched Maleficent stomp into the bedchamber, and the door slam shut so forcefully the windows rattled. Giving Titania a look of apology, she peered back down at the paste that she’d pestled. “How much water should we set on the fire?” she whispered, trying to politely ignore the glassiness of the centuries-old woman’s eyes at the sight of the pain she’d caused.

 

Snatching the pestle from Aurora’s grasp, Titania huffed and blinked rapidly. “Just go, dear. I’ll have Isobel bring it in when it’s ready. You’ve done enough.”

 

Nodding, Aurora walked into the bedchamber and closed the door gently this time, realizing that she was beginning to finally understand the circular way that her mate and extended family communicated. Insults were almost always projected by the offender as some sort of lesson or gift. In this case, Titania remembered her own shame and agony at having been drugged by her own husband for taking a human lover; she even loved the human after he’d been transformed by Oberon into a mockery of an ass. Maleficent had been drugged by someone she loved and trusted, only to learn betrayal as well. Finally, when the prickly woman had made Aurora seem like a bother, she was truly talking about herself. _‘You’ve done enough,’_ meant _‘I’ve done enough.’_

 

Turning her eyes away from Maleficent trembling in bed with her arms bent back protectively around curled wings, Aurora closed the wooden shutters and drew the curtains. Pitch black fell upon their room, and she gave a great sigh of relief.

 

* * *

 

Caitriona trudged after the alternately galloping and fluttering form of Isobel through the thick underbrush of the Moors. Too proud to ask the excited Princess to slow down, she merely attempted to keep close enough to see a blonde head bob above the cattails and ferns as they neared a lake. Her pack was heavy, laden with books for the afternoon ahead. The very idea of relaxing near water while reading for the better part of a day was pure heaven to the sixteen-year-old girl, and it lit her face up with happiness.  

 

She’d been so glad to follow Queen Titania’s suggestion to accompany Isobel to the Moors for the day; truthfully, she would have done anything short of digging peat to escape the thick tension inside the cottage after Isobel had brought the remedy draught into the dark bedchamber of the Queens. The cursing words that had exited the room’s opened door from her Majesty Maleficent’s mouth had brought a pink to Caitriona’s cheeks, along with the wheedling of Queen Aurora as Isobel ran from the chamber looking every bit as frazzled as she herself felt. The royals were acting as if she were more a member of the family, rather than a subject or a servant. It was confusing, petrifying, and... absolutely hilarious.

 

Looking around her surroundings, Caitriona wondered at the fae that flew in and around the bushes, trees, and water. Some buzzed past her ears, speaking nonsense. Blue mermaid-looking faeries had tugged at her hair and squeaked something she thought was approval before buzzing off to screech in dismay at Isobel. Large bird-like fae soared from the tree tops, their large beaks chattering in warning at the human on their turf. Her heart began to race. Running forward to catch up to Bel, she nearly tripped over a large stump by the lake where the Princess rested.

 

“Boo!” Isobel shrieked, her hands clawed and glowing eyes wide.

 

Unable to control a scream loosing from her lips, Caitriona fell into a pile of reeds and grasses. Instantly, tears sprung to her eyes as the large black fae swooped down towards her at breakneck speeds. Isobel fell into gasping, cackling laughter as the black haired girl scurried backwards and cried out at the boobries that were clucking and nudging at her face.

 

“They like you, silly!” Isobel chortled. “Relax! They’re just trying to tell you to beware of me. _I’m a bad, bad faerie_.” The blonde princess began to speak to the boobrie, gnashing and chattering her teeth at them at what sounded like an angry exchange.

 

Caitriona opened her eyes and wiped traitorous tears from her cheeks. “What’re you yelling at them for then if they like me?” She took a shuddering breath and held her hand aloft to the large air faeries as if they were dogs who needed to sniff her out, aware that she was probably saying hello all wrong but hoping that the fae did not take offense to her naivete.

 

A dark look crossed Isobel’s face, and she muttered under her breath as the female boobrie floated to nuzzle at Caitriona’s hand. It then croaked low and mournfully at having frightened the girl, blinking huge eyes slowly to convey their way of exchanging a kiss. “The female there is very old, and the matriarch of her group. She was afraid I’d stolen you from the human realm to live in the Moors by force, idiot thing. She doesn’t like me much, but she’s Mama’s favorite.”

 

“Oh...” Caitriona responded breathily, mesmerized by the kissing blinks of the fae before her. Her eyelids fluttered in kind, hypnotized by the loving gentleness of the creature. “You’re so beautiful, and utterly terrifying. Such a strong lady is needed to take care of her family,” she cooed. “What’s your name?”

 

“Her name is Cantalach[1],” Isobel sneered, turning away from the sight. Still, she turned to peer back over a wing with jealousy.

 

Sputtering a laugh, Caitriona shook her head. “How could such a lover be called a grouch, Bel? You’ve got to be joking. You told a joke!”

 

A grimace crossed Isobel’s face as she shrugged. “Not really. It’s Mother’s name for her, truly. Her fae name doesn’t really translate well. It’s something about wind, sun, and ethereal clouds or some craziness.”

 

If Caitriona could have guessed, the look on the matriarch’s eyes would have been stinging hurt at Isobel’s barb. “Don’t listen to the meanie over there, missus. If you tell me slowly, I might be able to say your name,” she tilted her head in awe of the being that still cozied itself into her immediate vicinity.

 

Two clucks, followed by a lowing like a cow and ending with a high pitched chitter came from the fae as she closed her eyes and bowed her head to Caitriona. At that motion, Isobel was taken aback at the fae’s presumption.   _It was deferring to the human as a princess of Moorfolk blood. How absolutely preposterous._

 

Caitriona stood, brushing her blue dress free of dirt. Curtseying to the boobrie, she bobbed her head slowly in reverence and repeated the noises back like she’d been speaking the language all her life.   At the show of respect and affection, the female boobrie began to glow, swirling around the young woman to spread magick in the air around her. The golden wisps flowed gently over Caitriona to absorb a moment later, and she giggled at the pulsating magick that now seemed to flow just beneath the surface of her skin. “It tickles, Bel!” Not hearing a response, she looked to the princess seated by the water. “Ishbel?” she queried.

 

Isobel sat, looking on longingly and slightly discomfited. Her scarlet lips were opened as if to speak, revealing the white of her teeth. Emerging suddenly from her daydream, her wings shuddered and she looked out at the water once more, not having said anything.

 

Cantalach pushed her head underneath Caitriona’s arm and shoved her forward a bit towards Isobel, blinking languidly twice before floating up into the skies. Befuddled by the princess’s capricious expressions, the girl sat down atop the tallest part of the tree trunk to look down at her. “Ishbel... I didn’t mean to make you sad,” she whispered softly, reaching out to squeeze the blonde’s shoulder in sympathy.

 

Reaching up ever so slowly, Isobel’s hand covered Caitriona’s on her shoulder and squeezed back. She didn’t look up from the lake as she spoke quiet as the breeze. “You didn’t make me sad, Cait.” Her wings rubbed together, making an odd grating noise of feather on feather.

 

Eyebrows wrinkling in confusion at the wings’ motion, Caitriona remembered what Sola had always told her. Closing her eyes, she lost herself in the memory.

 

_Giggling madly as they rolled around the far valley full of wildflowers, Sola and Caitriona wrestled and tickled. Green pearlescent wings would come up and hug at her every so often to distract from her mission target on the faerie’s stomach and ribs._

_Both out of breath, they laid amongst the long grasses and colorful array of blooms, hand in hand. “Why do your wings dither about when you blush, Soso?”_

_A rakish grin lit up the redhead’s face. “Because yer so pretty. I cannae help it.” Her freckled nose had bussed the newly-fourteen year old human’s then, followed by the sweetest of kisses on gasping lips. The faerie princess began to sing then, slightly off key in her nervousness as she sat up to knit a crown of daisies._

_“Black is the color of my true love’s hair... Her lips are like some roses fair. She has the sweetest face, and the gentlest touch... and I love the ground where on she stands,” Sola finished, blushing mightily. “I wish ye dinnae have to move so far away. I had to steal yer kiss ‘fore you go an’ leave me forever, Caitriona.”_

_“I have to go, Soso,” Caitriona murmured sadly. “I’m not needed here, and my father needs to inherit his House in Ulaidh.”_

_Sola’s lips had trembed into a pout as she forlornly placed the daisy crown atop the black hair, caressing the tips of rounded ears in hopes that it meant the same thing to the human lass as it did to faeries. Caitriona shivered under the touch, and it sent a tendril of warmth deep within Sola’s gut. “I need you,” she pleaded._

_Sitting up to face her, Caitriona’s eyes searched the sparkling forest green depths of Sola’s. Overcome with emotion, she leaned forward and placed her lips on the princess’s, deepening the embrace that they had sought fumblingly earlier.   Those blessedly soft wings had closed around them, hugging Caitriona so close their chests touched. Pulling away for air, she smelled the sweetness of Sola everywhere: the scent of sunshine, sea lavender, scottish pine with a tinge of tartness that she couldn’t identify._

_She wondered at the unique perfume, and Sola laughed while explaining what bergamot was. Her grandfather’s faerie mother had been from a faraway land to the south, where fruits that were both sweet and sour grew on short scrubby trees in the hot sun. When she’d given him wings, some of her essence had been imbued, and Sola surmised that it had been passed down through the generations. Caitriona was scandalized at the thought of knowing what Queen Maleficent smelled like, and covered her face with hands to hide her embarrassment._

_“Donnae do that,” Sola begged, pulling on her wrists. “I might ne’er get to look on yer beauty again.”    Ever so slowly, the princess’s lips grazed Caitriona’s eyelids, cheeks and chin before nudging her face upwards into a kiss so fierce that it dizzied the human girl. “Stay here with me, Caitriona. We’ll go hide in the Moors! Nobody will find us,” she entreated. "We can live there forever."  
_

Caitriona’s fingertips rested on her lips, and ice blue eyes began to water as she continued to look at Isobel’s wings. “I think I should like to read now, Ishbel...” she choked out. Sniffling, she began to rummage in the rucksack for anything to get her mind off of Sola, or her leth-aon.[2]

 

“Oh,” Isobel acknowledged, her tone melancholy. “All right, Caitriona,” she granted, painfully turning her back to the raven-haired lass that had all but stolen what was left of her heart, and opening a book to drown herself in. ‘ _You’re so stupid, Bel. Who could ever love you?’_ she bit back silently at the fluttering in her chest.

 

[1] Cantalach – Grouchy.

[2] Leth-aon – Twin


	36. Rúin agus Mianta (Secrets and Wishes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is a doozy of a chapter, folks. I suggest grabbing a drink before you settle down for the ride.
> 
> Reviews and PMs for questions/clarification are welcomed and cherished. I adore dialogue about the mythology surrounding this tale, and any of the characters therein.
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> One World, Celtic Woman  
> Not With Haste, Mumford and Sons  
> Magic, Jasmine Thompson  
> When You Believe, Celtic Woman

 

 

 

“By fairy hands their knell [death toll] is rung;  
By forms unseen their dirge is sung.”  
 **\- William Collins**

 

Maleficent scowled mightily as she rode Caitriona’s proffered black mare towards the castle, which loomed in the distance as sinisterly as it ever had in her youth. Word had reached their relatively peaceful summer home near the Moors that Dúngal mac Selbaig had been stirring the small council into a frenzy after the untimely dispatching of his most fervent follower, Adkin mac Alec. With the recent death of Lord Cuthbert from old age, she and Aurora had lost their most fierce loyalist on the council. Filled with young men that had inherited their fathers’ Houses within the recent years, it was chaotic and filled with squabbling that gave the most rested mind a headache that lasted for days.

 

Aurora rode next to her, astride the white mare that was her favorite, though the animal was looking worse for wear in its age. The faerie atop the saddle was gloriously beautiful however, with her gilded curls bouncing and wafting to and fro through the winds created by their travelling. The Queen had always been more at ease in the garb expected of royalty, even if she’d not been raised wearing it. In preparation for their journey, Aurora had commanded the finest gowns be sent from the wardrobe. Even in the unseasonably warm morning, she wore an ermine edged cloak that ruffled in sync with the bronze feathers that were revealed now and again by the breeze. The peasantry, farmers, and middling citizens of the mercantile class would need to be placated along the way by the keeping up of appearances. Maleficent would have liked to fly, but both Luna and Aurora had insisted that they looked more human and approachable if they rode. The matriarch of the family group had smirked amusingly at Luna’s insistence on the matter: she knew that her daughter was simply itching to catch a ride on her beloved familiar and steed.

 

Behind them, Airgid’s heavy silver-shod hooves pounded the ground as he proudly bore the would-be Queen of the Moors. As Maleficent glanced back, she was momentarily stunned by the utter beauty of the young woman that looked so much like herself. Riding aside as per her preference, Luna’s silver gown glistened in the rising sun. Her long umber hair had been expertly teased and coiffed by Caitriona in the dark wee hours; pearls studded along side buns laden with intricate braids, and all the frippery of human millinery somehow accented the faerie Princess’ slightly severe cheekbones. She’d put on weight in the last two months, Maleficent mused.

 

Marriage looked well on Luna – her bright smile that brought Aurora’s keenly to mind was seen on a regular basis as of late. Her jawline had softened with the excess of food and drink she’d been squirreling away in the past weeks. At that realization, Maleficent had wondered but not spoken a question aloud. As if sensing the stare, Luna met her mother’s gaze with a beatific smile of tranquil happiness. It was completely at odds with the feelings resting in Maleficent’s gut at the happenings inside the palace, but she mirrored Luna’s expression with a tight lipped reply. That earned her a softening of the young woman’s eyes, as if she were trying to convey her peace across the air to relieve the perceived agitation.

 

Unable to hold the exchange any longer without feeling guilty for her reticence, Maleficent turned forward once more. The black and cream damask gown she wore itched at her delicate shoulders from the motion, and she resisted the urge to claw at the fabric and arrive at the castle bare. Snorting indelicately to herself at the thought of what the humans would think of that sight, she gripped the reins tighter to with one hand. The other rose up to nudge a newly forged silver circlet that the metalworkers guild had sent as a Midsummer’s gift securely against her forehead. It was deceptively heavy due to the large olivine gems that decorated either side. The gemstones were rare, typically given by trade with the Picts who had in turn received them from the Viking tribes farther north. She knew the men of the guild had toiled long on the piece, meant to show their support for the crown and its strength in trade and wealth. Her ears were being pinched mercilessly by pearl earbobs which she’d been wheedled into wearing by Luna so they’d “match.” In short, Maleficent felt ridiculously adorned.

 

“Just a bit farther, darling...” Aurora yelled over the noise of the horses galloping. “One council meeting, an afternoon reception, and then you can change out of that horrid frock.” Her violet-blue eyes shone with understanding – she must have seen her reaching to scratch at the dress’s neckline.

 

Sighing resignedly, Maleficent peered at their surroundings rather than acknowledging she’d been caught. Citizens had been alerted by runners and criers of their progress back to the castle, and began to line the streets to greet their monarchs. At their admiring glances and waving kerchiefs, her back straightened and wings fluffed haughtily.   If there was one quality in her character that Maleficent considered a flaw, it wasn’t her darker nature or even her quickness to anger; it was the pleasure she felt at being found beautiful. She’d never thought herself such, and found the emotion of pridefulness queer in relation to anything other than her ability to strike enemies dead.

 

Shadows began to fall upon them as buildings rose around the Queen’s Highway, signaling their closeness to the main keep. “Do we really have to stay the week, ‘Rora?” Maleficent called back to her mate. In all of their many years residing here during the winters, she’d never felt quite so uneasy about entering the gates since... Well, since. Her stomach churned and wings stiffened to lay flat against her back.

 

Luna had no shortcomings regarding the foreboding heap of stone, and waved grandly to those who threw confetti and blooms down from the windows and ramparts in welcome. “Oh, Mother! Don’t be such a worrier. We’ll have this nonsense sorted out in short time.” Pulling Airgid up to a brisk trot beside Maleficent’s mount, she grinned viciously and clarified, “By niceties or by force, it will be done.”

 

Such a wickedness fell upon the sweet lips, it made Maleficent’s feathers stand on end. The Princess looked so innocent, one could easily forget how cruelly she’d been raised in Mabh’s court of the Unseelie. The capability of violence and savagery lay underneath that pretty face, and the mother was loathe to think on it. “I don’t doubt you’ll be of great help, little one,” Maleficent muttered.

 

At long last, they entered through the main gate into the outer bailey, dismounting quickly to hand reins off to waiting stable workers. Luna spared a moment to soothe Airgid; whispering softly into his fuzzy white ears and running her hands tenderly down his neck. The familiar’s whickers were plaintive – he didn’t feel safe around so many humans, but would follow his mistress’s orders. The sight of it made Maleficent’s heart clench in reminder of Diaval’s departure with the Seelie court on their trouping back to the southern lands of Britannia, claiming he’d wanted to see the world and requesting his release from her life force. Gritting her teeth, she sniffed back a tear and raised her chin to hide the quelling sadness.

 

Aurora noticed. She always noticed – acutely in tune with her bean chèile’s emotional tells. Resting a hand gently on Maleficent’s shoulder, she smiled rather bleakly. “He’ll be fine...” her voice trailed off. “I’m sure Titania is showing him a grand time.”

 

Maleficent pretended to startle out of a reverie, and raised an eyebrow in question. “Hmm? I didn’t quite hear you, mo chroí.” She quickly interrupted any response by beginning to walk. “Shall we go inside?” she called back to Aurora, refusing the topic of conversation.

 

Watching Maleficent abandon the stableyard to march up the main stairs, Aurora shook her head and followed to meet her mate’s side hurriedly. They had a small council to wrangle into obeisance.

 

* * *

 

 

Alexander wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and gratefully took the cup of watered down wine from Caitriona’s hand. It was insufferably hot for the early days of Meán Fómhair,[1] and he’d been tasked by his màthair-chèiles and mate to assist carpenters and laborers in the finishing of their cottage’s expansion. The tiny home was growing to house their growing family – an additional two bedchambers upstairs for he and Luna, and guests. Downstairs, a small reception room with attached library would serve as support. The kitchen had already been overhauled in the first part of the project, the dining area sufficiently lengthened to house a new table and chairs, and separated by a wall for more formal affairs.

 

“I don’t know why in Danu’s name they insist on having me work like a human,” he groaned at the dark haired beauty that looked on the workings appreciatively.

 

Caitriona’s eyes sparkled, and she chuckled politely into her palm. “I believe a good husband is measured by his ability to provide. Perhaps in exchange for marrying into a kingship, you’re being expected to pull your own weight? Or better yet, perhaps they wish you to bond some with the subjects while at work?” she reminded him wisely.

 

Giving the little mortal woman a crooked grin, Alexander shrugged. “It doesn’t quite work that way for the Lands of Faerie, lass. I’m merely the Prince Consort at the moment – quite a low position in our royal rankings.”

 

Curious at the bit of knowledge dangled, Caitriona took the bait. “And what would make you King of the Moors, then?”

Announcing her arrival behind the pair, Isobel answered for Alexander. “A child, of his making. He can’t assume Kingship of the Moors until his essence assumes dominance over the Queen’s womb. Rather arcane,” she groused, seating herself on a low sawhorse.

 

Caitriona sputtered at the personal nature the conversation was headed. “Why that’s simply...” her mind worked quickly to find words for the odd tradition, “a complete reversal of the way human realms do it. Instead of a Queen waiting to be crowned as such until an heir is born, faeries do that to the Kings?”

 

“Aye, indeed,” Alexander griped jokingly, holding a palm to his chest in mock offense. “The women of the Fae are quite monstrous mean to us poor menfolk. All I’m apparently good for is nailing wood and nailing...”

 

“Good sir!” Caitriona exclaimed, holding her hands quickly against Isobel’s ears.

 

The faerie Princess howled with laughter and tugged Cait’s hands from her head. “It’s fine, silly goose. I’m going to be fourteen soon, I know what goes on between a man and a woman.” Eyeing Caitriona mischievously, she added, “And between a woman and a woman!”

 

Glaring down at her companion and charge, Cait decided to get the subject matter back to something more educational. Fixing Alexander with a stare, she questioned, “Then why was Oberon named King of the Seelie before her Majesty Titania was Queen? She didn’t have a bairn until she was nearing a hundred years, I heard... and by a human lover. It doesn’t make sense.”

 

Sighing and rubbing at the back of his neck, Alexander then motioned for Caitriona to sit down as well. “That... is a long story, with many twists, turns, and intrigues. She wasn't 100 years old when she had my Da. It was more like she had my Da one hundred years ago. You see, my Daideo and Maimeo don’t truly love one another – it’s a marriage of convenience and consolidation of power.” Looking somewhat melancholy at his statement, he rambled on. “I suppose they must have at least liked each other once – perhaps like the fleeting nature of Maleficent’s dalliance with Aurora’s father. But truthfully, I think Daideo was just looking for a beautiful and powerful faerie Princess to take the place of the Queen he had ousted with much reluctance. He is the eldest of that Queen’s many sons borne of Celtic human kings – close to thirty, some say... though only seven survived infancy because she was such a pure-blooded Fae. Shallow pool, murky waters... and all that rot.”

 

Isobel had stilled preternaturally at Alexander’s tale. It brought up many instances of dark history in her family, some of which most faeries would rather forget forever. Caitriona looked on quizzically at the Princess’s sudden behavior, and then back at Alexander. “I’m still not following. There was a Queen of the Seelie, who was mother to King Oberon before Queen Titania became his wife? I don’t mean to offend by prying...” she queried.

Alexander held up his palms in peace. “No offense is taken, girl. The Seelie Queen did not bear any daughters, so her crown went to her eldest son Oberon. In his early years, he was quite lazy in handling human interactions... quite the introvert, really. Initially, this did not bother the Queen, for she knew her son would eventually become a strong King of the Fae. However, under his rule she noticed how mortals were straying from the old ways. They began to become ignorant towards us, not leaving out cream and honey or cakes, and some even regarding the Fair Folk as childish fantasies that never existed.”

Pausing to whet his tongue with a swig of wine, Alexander then blew a breath dramatically. “In her anger, she demanded the throne back, or that Oberon change his ways. Daideo did not see things as his mother and soon banished her from the Seelie Kingdom. Mabh, angry and bitter took refuge in the far reaches of the Lands of Faerie, reorganizing the Unseelie under her Queenship.”

“Mercy me!” Caitriona crowed.

 

Nodding beside her, Isobel whispered conspiratorily. “If that isn’t bad enough, King Oberon took Mabh’s own sister for his bride – his aunt for all intents and purposes, though much younger than Mabh and by a different sire. Her beauty and wit was renown, and he sought to solidify his claim to the throne against his Mother by marrying Titania, much to Mabh’s consternation.”

 

Counting on her fingertips, Caitriona seemed to be notating generations. “So that is why Queen Maleficent is named as a sort of niece to both?”

 

Alexander nodded stiffly once, his mouth a grim line. “Aye. Four or five generations down, depending on if you’re going by pure Fae birth or including the human dams and sires of changeling Fae. It took Lysander and Hermia quite some time to conceive her.” A dark look crossed his eyes at that statement. Hefting a hammer to knock a nail, he turned his face to the side to end the conversation for now, “Some say they had so much trouble because she’s so much human. Looking at her now, you’d not think it. No, I think her elan was simply destined to come at the time it did, falling to the Earth as prescribed. A necessary evil, if you will.” He continued to knock the nail, turning his back on the pair. It was not in time to stop the heavy bronze tool from smashing his fingers though, and he jumped with a yelp to throw the hammer towards the trees in a fit of anger and cursing. The Seelie Prince’s skin glowed a nasty green at his suddenly foul mood.

 

Taking Caitriona’s hand, Isobel hopped off the saw horse and scurried into the portion of the cottage not under construction only to stop once they’d reached the far wall, well away from Alexander’s ill temper. The Princess looked relieved to be sure, and it struck a chord in Cait’s heart. Isobel was rarely afraid of anything.

 

“Was he just... Could he have hurt us in his irritation? Why ever was he mad, beyond the smashing of his finger? He started to grow gloomy well before the hammer bit.” Caitriona stammered, wringing her hands and staring back at the front door.

 

Bel looked around, as if to sense whether Alexander would come after them in apology. Satisfied that he would stay outside after a long minute of silence, she began to whisper. “Yes, well. Your little human ears do not hear the arguing between he and Luna the past few nights. Their hammock is in the tree just outside our window since Titania has closed off the portal. I have quite the drama to keep me awake.”

 

Plopping down into a chair and leaning forward so that her face hovered mere inches from Isobel’s, Caitriona motioned for her to elaborate.

 

With a slight groan, Isobel began her gossip once more. “Luna wants a baby, and surprisingly or not, Alexander does not wish one at this time. First he argued that she was too young, and that they had many years to worry about it. Then, she brought up Mother’s issue carrying Luna in her early forties – hardly even considered old for faerie child bearing years. He bit back that it was probably Mabh’s fooling around to cause trouble, but Luna isn’t convinced that it wasn’t just womb troubles and that mayhaps Mabh was just waiting around to snatch her in the knowing of Maimeo’s long wait in concieving Mother. Only having one child from a faerie marriage is highly unusual, so Maimeo must have fallen pregnant more than once...” Clawing at her blonde tresses in frustration, Isobel rolled her eyes. “Of course being a man, he argued his way around that. He’s afraid Mother will be cross with him, getting Luna on with child so soon. I don’t know how he expects to resist her wiles for long. They share their marriage bed often enough, though he hasn’t left blessings on the farms!” she hissed. “Not a word of this, though! _To anyone, Cait._ Promise me.”

 

Moving her hand tentatively to squeeze on top of Isobel’s, Caitriona rested her forehead affectionately on the Princess’s. “Shhh,” she soothed. “I promise, Ishbel. I won’t speak of it to anyone but you. You can trust me.”

 

Isobel’s iridescent eyes grew wide at that statement. “I can trust you?” Her voice was awed.

 

“Of course, Princess of the Most Highly Infuriating Loveliness. How can you not trust the woman you sleep next to each night, and does your hair?” Caitriona joshed to cover the innate truth hidden in her words. Wrapping an arm around the blonde’s downy soft wings, she admired the way the light hit the brown to reveal blue and violet. She squeezed the faerie close in an embrace, feeling overcome by the simple touches and secrets they’d shared today.

 

Achingly slow hands rose up behind her back as Isobel returned the hug, even going so far to bury her face in the crook of the human’s neck. “I don’t think I’ve trusted anyone for a long, long time. Not even myself...I’m not sure I can,” the princess murmured.

 

Petting hands dotingly over the white-blonde curls that had frizzed in the heat, Caitriona responded, “Then it’s a good thing that humans feel so deeply to make up for our short life spans, as your Mother says. My trust is big enough for us both.”

 

* * *

 

 

Luna and Maleficent climbed the stairs of the castle towards the bedchambers and private studies, exhausted from the day’s events. Aurora had gone up already with her scribe to whittle away at the growing stack of parchments that would need to be annotated and signed by the Queen’s hand.

 

Stopping on a landing, Luna pulled at Maleficent’s hand. “Mother, can we rest here a moment? I’m ever so tired from the council meeting and feasting.”

 

Turning towards her daughter in concern, the elder faerie pursed her crimson lips. “Perhaps if you didn’t eat so much at dinner, you wouldn’t have a stitch in your side. I’ve been watching you,” she warned, still perplexed.

 

Her smile wide, Luna shook her head. “Oh, battling words with Dúngal mac Selbaig just gave me quite the appetite I’m sure,” she appeased lightly.

 

_“And here we have the long-lost Princess Luna, if she really is who she states, married off to the Seelie Prince without our counsel! Majesty, if I am being honest… I am quite affronted by the lack of council input into such a pairing,” Dúngal wheezed, his fist pounding at the table across from Aurora._

_Aurora’s eyes blazed with offense at his over-reaching. “And why does that affront you, good sir? She is our daughter, and as such was given permission to marry by her Monarch. I can assure you, no troubles or intrigues shall come from the Seelie Court on Alexander’s behalf. He’s made himself quite clear in his loyalties by staying with us as Prince Consort of the Moors, making no claim over the human realm.”_

_Luna pounded her own fist on the table, and bared her teeth in a short grimace. “I am happy and love my husband, mac Selbaig. We shan’t be a bother to the humans, so long as the Moors are not provoked.”_

_Leaning forward, the red-bearded man growled. “And what does that leave us for succession, Princess? Your sister, the white witch? Heavens help us! My daughter was taken as her companion without my say-so, which I allow only because your mothers are the Queens. What human man would marry such a beastly girl to bear a son for this kingdom? I can find none.”_

_Maleficent’s talons clenched at her palms so tightly, she was sure they drew blood. Her voice was quiet and deadly as she retorted, “The Princess Isobel is of her own mind on her mate, Lord mac Selbaig. I haven’t a clue if she’ll ever choose one, nor will I force her to. What would be so wrong in allowing a male offspring of Princess Luna and Prince Alexander to rule as per this kingdom’s insistently agnatic succession?”_

_“What’s wrong with it? **What’s wrong with it?”** Dúngal exploded. “It’d be a bloody Fae King, not raised by humans to care about human matters… Good Christian matters! And how long would we have to wait for the wee princeling, eh?” he looked knowingly towards the other council members. “Everyone knows the Fair Folk lineage is weakly carried, at best. Your kind is dying out, Maleficent.” Some of the men assembled voiced their assent by knocking on the tabletop, while others wisely looked anywhere but at Dúngal in their silent dissent. _

_Aurora stood to gather attention from the troubling man. Walking slowly around the table to meet each man’s eyes, she spoke peaceably, “Have we not been good Queens to you? Have the Fair Folk not blessed this kingdom with wealth, harvest, and riches beyond compare? Must you all be so grasping at the new religion that the very idea of a faerie King is abhorrent to you?”_

_A young councilman by the name of Fergus mac Leod spoke up softly. “Of course, you’ve been a good Queen to us, your Majesty. We simply wonder if the Fair Folk are merely at your behest because of your… affection for Queen Maleficent, and now your current state. You know both ways – human and Fae. Though I am unfailingly loyal to your Majesties, and my family has Fair Folk blood, I fear the imaginary princeling in question may not appreciate his human side as well as you. The men and women of my line that carry Fae heritage are ever so tempestuous, refusing to stay put to inherit their Houses.” he shyly ended, smiling sweetly in apology at the beautiful Queen._

_“Enough of this, I say!” Dúngal mac Selbaig interrupted the tête-à-tête. “You see, my good men… Their Majesties refuse to see reason. As I am next in line of succession past their line, I speak on this with the highest interest for our kingdom. My son, a fully human lad, has come to his majority this year. Shall he not be groomed to inherit his birthright because we squabble about the wholly improbable results of Princess Luna’s get?”_

_Standing so quickly her chair toppled, Maleficent growled as she began to glow. The horned faerie was completely incensed at this point. “You dare to speak of my daughter as if she is a faulty broodmare, mac Selbaig?”_

_Glaring hatefully back at her, Dúngal spat his reply. “Aye I dare to, my Queen! Word has spread about why Princess Luna was found in the hands of the Unseelie rather than your own arms to nurse and raise. Your line’s women are insufferably incapable of their feminine duties. Your mother had only you. You! A horned visage of Hell!”_

_Quickly grasping at Maleficent’s hand to stay it from strangling the councilor, Aurora’s face was livid. “You forget yourself, sir!” she yelled, incapable of withholding her ire further._

_Sensing he’d gone too far and played his hand too openly, mac Selbaig played another card. “I want my daughter back, your Majesties, and as soon as possible. She’s of marriageable age, and I won’t have you filling her head with faerie nonsense or marrying her off to another one of your Fae cronies.”_

_Luna rose gracefully from the council table to walk in front of the horrible man. “Never I say, Lord mac Selbaig. Caitriona has asked for the protection of the Moors in refusal of your insistence at her betrothal. She will not be forced into a convent, either. The Moors protect their own,” she quipped smartly. “Anything to challenge my protection would be seen as an act of treason against my Lady Mother Aurora, as she is currently Queen of both kingdoms.”_

“Mother? Mother…” Luna called singsong. “Where did you go?”

 

Blinking with a start, Maleficent trained her face into calm once more. “I apologize, dear heart. I was merely pondering the happenings of earlier.”

 

Walking up the stairs once more, they fell into companionable silence for a time. Luna nudged a wing playfully at her mother. “You looked like you wanted to skin mac Selbaig alive earlier, and just now,” she commented.

 

Frowning, Maleficent thought her words through before speaking quietly. “I do not enjoy his line of thought, or how he feels entitled to wonder at your capability to bear heirs, Luna. You’re so young, my precious jewel… So very young. Cannot you and Alexander have some seasons of love and happiness before being saddled with the responsibility of raising children?”

 

Luna’s chin dipped a bit, and her wings began to droop. “That’s what Xander says, but I’m not of the same mind Mother. I want so many children! I want to fill the Moors with glad tidings and joy that only the most innocent of minds can bring forth. Our babies would be so happy there, frolicking and breathing Life once more. I may be young in years, but I wish so much to begin now. It was so lonely growing up alone. What if I only have one child?”

 

Momentarily shocked at the young Princess’s wishes, the faerie Queen tried to lighten the situation. “Many children? How many is many, Luna?” she chided.

 

Smirking with humor, Luna responded tartly. “Oh, I don’t know. Twelve or so to drive their seanmháthairs[2] to wits end?”

 

Maleficent tripped on a stair, and held the wall for support. “Twelve?” she questioned, her voice gone dry. A memory of a time long ago came to mind. _‘I don’t like children.’_

Seeing that her plan to rile Maleficent’s feathers had succeeded, Luna scurried past and up the stairs. “You won’t have to wait for long, Maimeo!” she called jovially.

 

Suddenly, it all made sense in perfect clarity to the Queen as she watched the princess bound up and away. _Overeating. Hiding food. Radiant skin. Lustrous hair. Rounded cheeks. Unfailing happiness._

 

“Luna, don’t exert yourself! Slow down and walk softly!” she screeched, ascending the stairs in chase.

 

[1] Meán Fómhair – September

[2] seanmháthairs – grandmothers


	37. Grái gcónaí Buann (Love Conquers All)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, here’s your long awaited chapter update! I hope you enjoy some deep character insights in this chapter, as well as the story progression. Lots of happenings as this tale reaches its zenith in story arc.
> 
> I know I say this a lot, but reviews really, really help. They let me know what you as a reader like, dislike, want to see, etc. While most of the story is outlined, and many parts written, I am always happy to improve my craft to meet reader expectations and suggestions.
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> Take Flight, Lindsey Stirling
> 
> Magic, Jasmine Thompson
> 
> Our Farewell, Within Temptation

 

**“The Laws of the Seelie are very simple. The most important to remember are as follows:**

 

 **Death Before Dishonor** : You will protect your honor to the death. Honor is your glory, the only way to attain recognition.

A true Seelie would rather die than live with personal dishonor, and shall never bring dishonor to another unless exacting vengeance.

 

 **Love Conquers All** : Love is the perfect expression of your soul. It transcends all other things.

 

 **Beauty is Life** : All beauty is to be protected.

 

 **Never Forget a Debt** : You are bound by your code of honor to repay any debt owed as soon as possible.

This includes both favors and insults. Repay your favor in a timely fashion. Exact vengeance almost immediately.”

 

* * *

 

 

Aurora stretched languidly in bed, cuddled between two pale arms. Placing a cheek onto a soft breast, she sighed her pleasure. Underneath her, a deep chuckle resonated.

 

“Happy to be inside your fortress of glass and stone once more, Beastie?” Maleficent questioned airily.

 

Blushing, Aurora looked around. “Not as glad as I am to be back in our room. I don’t miss the palace so much as I missed our...” her hand waved around the room to point at the many trinkets and posessions their life together had acquired.

 

It wasn’t so much the finery or furniture, or even the silks in their chifforobe. It was the slightly out-of-place collection of Moors raw crystals and acorns that hung near the window that refracted prisms and rainbows onto the tapestry that told of their love, or the comforting way the room smelled like just them instead of the cottage which smelled of both them and their guests. Their palace bedchamber was an oasis to Aurora, holding so many memories. If she’d had the words for it, she might have compared it to the way Maleficent probably felt about her Rowan tree.

 

Humming gently in agreement, Maleficent turned her attention back to the small, worn book in her hands. Resting her chin atop Aurora’s head, she began to read again.

 

Snatching the book quickly from Maleficent’s fingers, Aurora scooted across the bed playfully. She held it aloft, peering upwards at the tool of distraction, and then back at her mate in challenge.

 

Maleficent frowned and reached forward, but did not lift her back from the bolster pillows. “Give that back,” she commanded, her chin raising and nostrils flaring in annoyance.

 

If anything, the haughty and regal look that had overtaken the sharp features of her wife’s face made Aurora all the more giddy. “I don’t think I shall,” she retorted, adopting a mimicry of the expression Maleficent had worn moments before. While reading the book’s title out of the corner of her sight, she pouted. “After all, if ‘Oisín in the Land of Youth’ is more interesting than I, perhaps I ought to rise for the day so that the pages may better receive your attention.”

 

The taller faerie Queen rolled her eyes in response, and promptly leaned back against the pillows to close them. Her jaw worked to swallow ripe curses that she would have liked to hurl, but this was Aurora after all. Exhaling a breath through her nose in an attempt to sound displeased, she muttered “Have it, then.”

 

Not to be outdone, Aurora settled back down and opened to a random page. She smirked as she began to read aloud, intent on embarrassing Maleficent with the dry reading that she so typically poured over. “’My name," she said, "is Niam of the Golden Hair. I am the daughter of the King of the Land of Youth, and that which has brought me here is the love of thy son Oisín." Then she turned to Oisín and she spoke to him in the voice of one who has never asked anything but it was granted to her, "Wilt thou go with me Oisín, to my father's land?’”

 

Perplexed by this turn of events, she settled further into the pillows next to Maleficent, who was pretending to ignore her. She read on, “’And Oisín said, "That will I, and to the world's end;” for the fairy spell had so wrought upon his heart that he cared no more for any earthly thing but to have the love of Niam of the Head of Gold.” Why Maleficent… You’re reading a romance?”

 

“Yes,” crimson lips answered curtly, and once again fell silent.

 

“Oh, I see,” Aurora acknowledged, suddenly contrite. Quickly, she flipped through the memories of the past month and a half since things had begun going downhill politically. It had caused her many a long hour arguing with her councilors, though she was bolstered by the support of most of the lower gentry and peasantry.

 

Maleficent had been vexed most days, secretly following Luna around the Moors and castle alike, much to their daughter’s dismay. Alexander had put his foot down in a shouting match between he and Maleficent, and though she’d been sufficiently chastised for her hovering, Aurora couldn’t help but agree with Maleficent’s worry.

 

Isobel and Caitriona now often accompanied Luna on her forays into the kingdom when Alexander was busy, which had hurt the eldest faerie to no end. She’d withdrawn into herself, and Aurora had been too busy yelling down impudent nobility to tend the emotional wounds.   Instantly, Aurora felt ashamed. Closing the book gently, she placed it on a bedside table.

 

She nestled herself closer to the still form of her bean chèile, lifting a great brown wing out of the way to do so. “Malle, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you; I know I’ve been absent lately…” Aurora whispered, brushing fingertips lightly over a sharp cheekbone.

 

A lithe hand shot up to grasp around her wrist, gripping firmly. Aurora gasped, concerned that she’d done more harm than good with her admission. Only until iridescent green eyes opened to look at her ferociously was she sure that her shenanigans had brought her more trouble than she’d anticipated.

 

“You’re sorry?” Maleficent countered acerbically, her breaths coming heavily.

“I… Of course I am,” Aurora coaxed, her tone placating. “What can I do to convince you?”

 

Her view of the bedchamber spun as Maleficent pounced. Aurora shrieked both in delight and having been startled, suddenly beneath the pinning stare of her mate. Wings were held fully extended, blocking the dim morning light from their embrace. Maleficent darted forward to capture her in a kiss full of emotions. There was anger, evidenced by the crushing weight behind it, as well as the clicking of their teeth. Sadness was in the salty tang of tears that masked the normally sweet taste. Passion won out, overflowing from the hisses, licks, and moans that interrupted their lips touching.

 

Aurora felt her nightgown being untied from behind her neck, and she wriggled out of the lacy confection that the wardrobe had sent up. Her movements put a delicious friction between them, and Maleficent inhaled quickly through clenched teeth. Aurora knew that noise all too well: her mate was resisting the overwhelming need to take what she needed. Deciding to tip the scales and give permission all at once, she raked her sharp fingernails down Maleficent’s chest from collarbone to breast, pinching the nipples that pebbled under her ardent attention.

 

Maleficent’s fingers curled their way into her hair, tugging her face down to the curvy flesh. _‘Oh,’_ Aurora realized, attempting to guide the woman above her down to the bed as she began to lave one breast while alternately massaging the other. Still, her wife would not be moved. Maleficent’s knees settled firmly on either side of her waist, and her elbows locked.

Aided by the curve of the wings that now cradled on either side of them, her heated cries echoed and rang in Aurora’s ears. Even in her need, Maleficent would not be convinced to give up protecting them. It brought a smile to Aurora’s lips as she slid her hands down silky skin to grip tightly onto sharply jutting hips.

Pulling downwards, Aurora could more easily reach the object of her desire. While sliding one hand around to caress Maleficent’s bottom, the other snaked down to stroke the damp curls before sliding two fingers gently into blissfully scorching heat.

“Oh, damnú![1] Gods, Aurora… Harder!”Maleficent groaned, rocking her hips forward at a heady pace.

Aurora was only too glad to comply, completely mesmerized by the beautiful sight of sharp white teeth biting back moans, and the shivering of skin and wings above her. When a slender neck arched back to release a keening noise that traveled from her ears to her own loins like wildfire, Aurora launched upwards to bite and suckle at it, unable to control her euphoria any longer. She moved her nips up to tug at an elfin ear and purr “Tá túálainn sin.”[2]

At that, Maleficent shuddered and picked up speed. Her rhythm was beginning to be erratic, and Aurora knew to curl her fingers upwards at this juncture. She pressed her thumb down and massaged the most sensitive part of her lover while her fingers continued to plunge into slick depths.

 

Maleficent’s heart raced, and she felt more drunk than she had been on Midsummer’s Eve. Her blood roared hot in her ears. Tensing to still as she shattered and came undone, time seemed to pause. She couldn’t control her screams at this point, though she didn’t even try. Flames licked their way through her veins, combusting her from within.

 

Shakily, she laid down atop Aurora as whimpers continued to escape her lips. Delicate arms came up and around to hug her close, and the simple action was a soothing balm to her heart that had been feeling so very misunderstood and unloved as of late. Nuzzling into her mate’s neck, she panted and continued to shake, now cold in the late Deireadh Fómhair[3] air.

 

Sliding over, she reached for the blanket to shield them from the draft before cuddling once more. Her hands began to wander lazily over Aurora’s skin, which was glowing with magickal radiance leftover from their sharing pleasures. “I should...” she murmured, leaning forward to embrace her luminous woman closer yet. Now gentled, she sought Aurora’s lips in a kiss sweeter than honey.

 

A stiff knock sounded on their hidden door beneath the tapestry. Jerking up to sit, Maleficent growled at the intrusion. If it was a handmaid bearing breakfast, they could very well wait.

 

“It’s all right,” Aurora soothed, pushing her back down. She shrugged her nightgown back on while tucking Maleficent’s nude form underneath the blankets.

“It is most certainly not all right,” Maleficent glowered, staring at the door like she could murder whoever was behind it with a look.

 

The knocking came again, even more insistent. Pointing at Maleficent to stay put, Aurora ducked under the tapestry to peek out the door. “Hello?” she called out into the servant’s hallway.

 

Alexander poked his head around the corner where he’d been waiting, and hefted a tray full of breakfast into view. “I bring news and food, Màthair-chèile. I accosted your ladies’ maid for it, I’m sorry to say. She was hopping around your hallway like a nervous hen waiting to lay an egg. May I come in?” he asked, a roguish grin lighting his face.

 

“Ahhh,” Aurora hesitated, ducking back into the bedchamber. Just as she was turning around, Maleficent was there, already tying on a soft woolen robe with her face a picture of peevishness.

“What do you want?” she bellowed out the door at Alexander, choosing to shout her first words to the prince in the weeks since their argument.

 

Holding breakfast up once more like a shield, Alexander winced and bent slightly at the waist in deference. “Màthair, please. Don’t be cross for the interruption; the letter I have is for your eyes only and Maimeo’s dove flew a long way to bring it to you.”

 

Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, Maleficent held her hand out for the letter without moving from the door.

 

“Come now, Mal… Màthair,” Alexander responded sweetly. “I’ve brought your breakfast, you see?”

 

Maleficent did not respond in kind, turning on heel to walk away. She fluffed and extended her wings in his direction.

An equal human gesture would be to ‘pluck the yew,’ and Aurora blushed from head to toe. “I’m sorry!” she whispered frantically to the Seelie prince, taking the tray from his hands to place it on the table by the windows.

 

Alexander slid into the bedchamber quietly when Aurora did not shut the door on him. He didn’t seat himself, aware that Maleficent was still rather tetchy. Closing the door gently, he pulled the tapestry back down as the horned faerie paced the room, tearing into the letter snatched from the breakfast tray. He knew that missives that bore blood-oath seals of ‘so-and-so’s eyes only’ were never, ever good. Clearing his throat quietly, he nodded his head from Aurora to Maleficent, trying to clue the kinder of his mother-in-laws to the nature of the letter.

 

The more that Maleficent read, the more she seemed to wilt. Her wings fell slowly, as if weighted down by sadness. She turned away from both Aurora and Alexander, but reached out for her mate with a hand still clutching the missive. “I… I don’t understand,” she choked out, thrusting the parchment at Aurora.

 

The Queen took the paper gently from the trembling hand and passed it to Alexander like it was a hot coal, choosing rather to embrace the silent faerie whose shoulders now racked with silent sobs.

 

Perplexed at seeing Maleficent cry, even if only from behind, Alexander looked at the letter for answers.

 

 

Maleficent,

 

I write to ask your forgiveness as well as pass the sad news of your

familiar raven, Diaval. As you know well, magick never deals in absolutes.

I had promised to find a worthy successor for his fiach saol,[4] but the conditions were never optimal.

Laurentina did try her very hardest to cure the raven’s melancholy and forge the bond,

but the emotion was not there on part of your former familiar.

 

She is aggrieved at the hopelessness of the situation and wishes to bring him to you herself,

both to apologize face-to-face and bring him home to pass into the next world peacefully with you by his side.

I fear the next time he transforms may be his last, so I send him to you as his original form.

Laurentina will arrive with him within three nights of you receiving this,

as we are currently over the Breatnaise Strait in Galician lands.

My utmost and sincerest condolences, dear one.

 

Titania Regina

 

 

“Scrios Dé!”[5] Alexander muttered, folding the parchment back in three to place it back on the tray. Running a hand down his face in frustration, he cupped his chin and leaned against the wall in emotional fatigue. His name was being called gently, and he stood back up in attention. “Sorry, what?” he asked quietly, not knowing who had asked for him.

 

Aurora rose slowly from where she had knelt to comfort her mate while Alexander read the missive. Walking over to the dazed faerie, she motioned towards the door. “I don’t mean to be rude... Alexander, she needs to process this. She won’t unless...” she whispered while looking over a shoulder.

 

Alexander’s eyes rested on the great, brown wings that curled around his màthair-chèile as she sat, her knees tucked under the great volume of feathers as though she was attempting to hide. “Of course, of course,” he agreed rapidly, turning to let himself out.

 

Once the hidden door had been shut behind him, he turned to face the room and allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness in the hallway. Only moments later, an ear-splitting shriek came from behind the door, followed by the smashing of an upturned tray. He darted away to inform anyone with a wish to live not to venture inside, all the while bemoaning the sound of the broken crockery.

 

“What a waste of breakfast,” he grumbled; pushing his way past another alarmed guard.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you fairly cracked in the head, or do you mean to get us in a world of trouble, Ishbel?” Caitriona yelped at the Princess.

 

Isobel had decided that the fields around the castle were not adventurous enough for their late afternoon walk. Skipping lazily and fluttering her wings, Bel grinned with mischievousness. Now that they were far enough into the woods, she had told Caitriona her secret, anticipating the young woman’s indolent screeches.

 

“It’s just mead, Cait! I nabbed it out of Luna’s room when she was napping. You act like I stole uisce _ **[6]**_ from the surgeon barber or something!” she teased, waving the leather wineskin at her companion. Her wings decided to trip her up then, and she fell laughing in a great heap on the leafy forest floor. Lying back, she displaced the fallen leaves by swooshing her wings and her legs; this too was followed by much giggling.

 

Sitting down primly, Caitriona snatched the wineskin away. “No, but you’re filthy drunk, Bel. Your mother is out of her head in anticipation of some faerie toting her raven. Luna is in bed not feeling well today, and Alexander is prowling the halls like some sort of madman because of it. Queen Aurora is shut up in the council chambers with her scribe over Lordy knows what, and here you are…A drunkard a week before her fourteenth name day.” Her mouth turned down disapprovingly.

 

Propping herself up to lean against a tree, Isobel frowned. Suddenly, this didn’t seem like such a fun idea. Biting her bottom lip, she shrugged. “You’re the only one that cares, any how.”

 

“That’s not true!” Caitriona challenged, crossing her arms. “Your family loves you, and so do I. Even if you do look like a weasel preparing for winter with your heavy glamour, and smell like the wine cellar,” she cheeked.

 

Rolling her eyes, Isobel waved a wobbly hand at Caitriona. “Oh aye, the citizens just love their ‘white witch princess.’” Slowly, awareness came to her foggy mind at what Caitriona had slipped. A smile slid across her darkly painted lips. “You love me?”

 

Caitriona startled at the question. She hadn’t meant to let it slide – Isobel was so very fragile emotionally. Newly seventeen, Caitriona was considered a spinster as a human lass. They were quite the unlikely pair, and frankly she wasn’t keen on finding out how their Majesties would find such an arrangement – probably an egregious lack of judgment. “Of course, Ishbel,” she began to explain. “Of course I love you, like…”

 

Isobel launched herself and tackled the mortal woman. Looking down at the black-haired maiden, she blushed and blinked rapidly, her faerie nature making the actions appear coquettish. The sheer beauty that shone from the alabaster face framed by white-blonde hair enchanted Caitriona, and her hands slowly began to cup sharp cheekbones without thinking about the action.

 

Leaning into the touch, Isobel’s starving heart felt like it would burst. “I love you too, Cait,” she declared, claiming Caitriona’s lips reverently.

 

Unable to resist returning the kiss softly, Caitriona’s memories wandered. While Sola had been naturally pretty, her face was decidedly less angular and more human. She had hair color the same as many girls their age, blending in easily in her early years as she tugged shyly behind Queen Aurora’s skirts. It wasn’t until she grew older and set herself apart that Sola appeared that different than any other girl of the nobility.

 

Her twin was a study in everything that _was_ different; sharp in bone structure and in temperament, it was hard to believe some of the guard’s stories about how she’d cried like a little lamb whenever Queen Maleficent would yell. Isobel’s coloring was simply the thing that humans found most disconcerting, but Caitriona found it marvelous.

 

Releasing Caitriona’s kiss to come up for air, Isobel felt like she could zoom into the headwinds without any difficulty. She pulled her human up into an embrace, wrapping her wings around them in happiness. Abruptly, Cait stiffened in her arms, her blue eyes focused on something behind them.

 

“Isobel!” she screamed as a trio of hooded men snatched her roughly from the princess’s wings. Bel reached out quickly, but not quickly enough. The gathering basket Cait had carried to collect flowers toppled over as the men scuffled with them.

 

 _Hot, molten pain._ It seared its way across Isobel’s face and hands as she struggled. Fear clouded her mind, and she reached out against the torture that blurred her sight. “Caitriona! No, Cait!” she screeched, rolling and wrestling against the burning weight atop her.

 

One scalded hand finally found its way through a hole in the iron net, but it only served to burn her sensitive skin more. A booted foot kicked at her hand, and a sword stabbed at her side for good measure, eliciting a bawling yelp as she felt her skin bleeding and burning at the same time. As she saw Cait fight back against the three men only to lose consciousness when one smashed her on the neck above the shoulder with the butt of his sword, the faerie princess lost what sanity she had left. The men loaded a limp Caitriona onto a horse and mounted their own steeds. Thrashing about as the hoof beats of horses receded in the distance, she only succeeded at tangling herself further.

 

The resounding howls of agony carried over glen and valley, finally alerting the Queen’s guard to investigate.

 

* * *

 

 

Laid on her back but unable to move, Isobel drifted in and out of consciousness. Her eyes could barely make out the carved wood of her canopy bed, or those around her. Oh, but she could hear them.

 

An unfamiliar woman’s voice was livid. “I thought you had banned cold iron in this realm except for farming tools and horse shoes!”

 

Mother ignored the angry woman’s question, instead asking one of her own. “What can be done?” she demanded, her voice wavering.

 

“She’s half human, Maleficent. Their healing process is different, and this is cold iron we’re talking about, not your run of the mill human smithy shite! Wherever did they get it?” Who was this? A healer? A warrior?

 

A woman with golden tresses much like her mama’s entered her line of vision, and examined her with the widest set of amber yellow eyes she’d ever seen on a faerie. Mother addressed her from farther away. “Do what you can, Laurentina. I’m afraid my skills at healing are limited to breathing Life to extend it, and to plants.”

 

Impossibly gentle hands stroked at her face then, though they still felt like red-hot pokers on the injured skin. Isobel began to fade from consciousness once more, her shoulders barely leaving the bed even though she wanted to rise up and tear the hands away from her battered face. “Easy, Isobel. I’m trying…” Laurentina fussed, her compulsion-spell laden voice like a song.

 

Laurentina was here. That meant Diaval was here. Isobel’s thoughts were disjointed, muddled by the pain. “D-Diaval…” she whined.

 

“He’s safe and sound, being tended to by your Lady Mother Aurora,” the golden faerie’s voice lulled, jerking her healing hands away from her face with a gasping hiss. Turning to Mother, the Seelie looked disappointed. “I’ve taken as much of it as I can, Maleficent. She was under that horrible net for at least the half hour your guards said it took them to reach her.”

“Will she scar?” Luna’s voice sounded hoarse from crying, and too far away. Bel reached towards her sister, but her hand was so heavy. It fell ineffectually onto the bed, having moved barely an inch.

 

The response was too hushed to hear, but the tone was discernable. The more she heard the pity in the voices, the more Isobel became angry. Why were they bothering with her, when Caitriona was out there somewhere? She was probably hurt worse!

 

If the net was anything like Luna’s Unseelie dagger, her face must be a fright. Isobel had worked long and hard on her mother’s hands after the incident, only for Maleficent to resign herself to bearing the pink outline of a blade on her palms. “S-stop,” she begged. “K-kill me,” her teeth chattered from the anguish of a broken heart and the iron burns.

 

Her mother’s tear-streaked face hovered over her. “Sleep, my sweetling,” Maleficent both comforted and compelled, her green and golden eyes haunted.

 

* * *

 

[1] damnú – Fuck, as in “Oh, fuck!” An exclaimation.

[2] tá túálainn sin – You are so beautiful.

[3] Deireadh Fómhair – October

[4] fiach saol – Life debt, literally, “soul debt.”

[5] Scrios Dé! – Shit! Literally, “Gods destroyed.”

[6] Uisce – whiskey


	38. Ban-draoidhe Bàn (The White Witch)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello readers! Thanks for being so patient while I edited this chapter. It’s so very integral to the story that I was a little bit of a perfectionist about it. My sincerest apologies! Reviews are appreciated. XO, Coco
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:  
> Where is the Edge, Within Temptation  
> Forgiven, Within Temptation

**O brothers mine, take care! Take care!**

**The great white witch rides out to-night.**

**Trust not your prowess nor your strength,**

**Your only safety lies in flight;**

**For in her glance there is a snare,**

**And in her smile there is a blight.**

**The great white witch you have not seen?**

**Then, younger brothers mine, forsooth,**

**Like nursery children you have looked**

**For ancient hag and snaggle-tooth;**

**But no, not so; the witch appears**

**In all the glowing charms of youth.**

**Her lips are like carnations, red,**

**Her face like new-born lilies, fair,**

**Her eyes like ocean waters, blue,**

**She moves with subtle grace and air,**

**And all about her head there floats**

**The golden glory of her hair.**

 

-       **an excerpt from “The White Witch,”** **James Weldon Johnson**

 

* * *

 

Mother and daughter met each other’s stare equally – both incensed with fury and offense. A cold Samhain[1] breeze entered the bedchamber from the opened window, ruffling feathers on rigidly held wings. The pair held each other’s gaze as if in a contest to see who would wilt first. For the time being, it was a stalemate.

 

Maleficent snarled menacingly through clenched teeth at the insolence of her youngest. It was the child’s fourteenth name day, and she’d left her near-constant post at Diaval’s side to wake the injured girl sweetly.   Her once saccharine and shy child had growled like a vicious animal to scamper behind a tapestry upon the door opening, refusing to come out no matter how she called and cooed softly.

 

It was true that Isobel’s slow descent into darkness had not gone unnoticed, nor was it without reason. Since the moment she was born many had written her off as the second girl born to an agnatic kingdom, but her Mother knew a kindred heart when she saw it. Quiet, bookish and sweetly innocent to a fault, it was no surprise that the Princess was so misjudged. So then, it was truly no wonder that the response to transgressions against her were met with such irrational emotion.

 

Her responding actions as a child had been to cling to Maleficent like a barnacle, or cry until the towering faerie was coaxed into withholding punishment. As she grew older and more jaded, the tears had been replaced by swift and burning hatred against whomever dared to sin against her. To that end, Maleficent understood Bel better than anyone else in the entire world. Luna may have been her doppelgänger in appearance, but Isobel was a piece of her very heart and soul. It was not a coincidence that she had hovered protectively over her snow-white child in a vain attempt to shield the tender heart from being pierced by the sting of betrayal, pain, or evil. Maleficent knew well what the result would be if it ever came to pass.

 

It still did not mean that her own heart did not burn with hurt and indignation when from beneath the tapestry Isobel had ordered her to leave the room, as if her own mother was a chambermaid. Rushing forward, Maleficent had thrown up the tapestry and dragged the churlish princess out. Her reward had been the flash of glowing eyes, and gleaming talons as they struck out to claw at her arms.

 

And so, here they were. Isobel hissed venomously as tears ran down her sharp cheeks in response to Maleficent’s snarl, but her wings and shoulders began to tremble. She was frightened, so very frightened. It was like looking at a mirror in the night – Maleficent could see herself plainly, but only the most shadowed parts. The darkness was taking over Isobel’s heart.  

 

Maleficent’s heart broke at that. She turned around, cutting short the contest of wills.

 

Isobel shoved her roughly, eliciting a gasp of dismay from the faerie Queen. As she turned around once more to restrain her disobedient daughter, she was met with the sight of the tapestry being thrown down again over the lump of a body.

 

“Get out!” Isobel wailed.

 

Seething, Maleficent rubbed at the raw scratches on her forearms. “When does this end, Isobel Yvaine? You have done nothing but scare the wits out of the castle staff that enter your room with food since you refuse to join us for meals. You’ve yelled at your other mother for looking at your face too long when all she wanted to do was see that you were truly all right when you finally awoke.”

 

Her voice raised in volume as she went down the list, stalking towards the tapestry. “Your sister misses you terribly, and Diaval has asked for you but you’ve refused to come out of this forsaken room!” Maleficent’s hand came up to caress at her own throat, surprised that so many words had flooded from her lips at once.

 

Jagged edged talons curled around the edge of the tapestry. The embroidered wall hanging slid forebodingly slow to the side to reveal Isobel once more, her face a picture of loathing. “When does it end, _Mother?”_ she whispered caustically. “Have you _seen_ what they’ve done to me? I’m hideous! They’ve taken _everything:_ My twin, my beauty, and now my truest love. Caitriona is gone, and _don’t think I didn’t notice_ that no sentries have exited the keep to go after her in over a week.” Accusation dripped from her tongue like acid. “ _It ends when they are dead_.”

 

Maleficent stepped back, her nostrils flaring and eyes widening at the exchange of information. “I can’t very well send an entire battalion to mac Selbaig’s home to raid it Isobel, no matter how much I suspect his involvement. Alexander scoped the estate for days in heavy disguise – _she’s not there._ And besides… your truest love? I hesitate to agree with you on that subject. Caitriona was Sola’s heart.”

 

Mentally, she added ‘ _and a distraction for you.’_ Maleficent had indeed sent other spies to the other councilors estates as well, especially those whom sided often with mac Selbaig. The raven-haired girl had vanished. This she didn’t tell her daughter.

 

“And Sola is dead. Caitriona is _mine._ ” Isobel snapped, a severity coming over her face. It made the irritated, red iron-burn scars stand up in harsh relief over her sharp cheekbone and furled brow.

 

“I see,” Maleficent retorted softly. The very idea of Caitriona mac Selbaig being tossed around like a possession to be owned made her suddenly ill. The poor mortal girl’s own father treated her as such. Wars had been fought over women many times before in both human and faerie history. The Earth had cried numerous times for it – Her rivers running red with the blood of the fallen.

 

This was a dangerous situation, like a forest that was heady with pitch and sap from a profoundly rainy autumn. Winter would bring freezing temperatures, snapping the heavy branches made weak by the weight and killing the trees.

 

Standing before her was the most dangerous catalyst of all, ready to happily dance around the frozen carcasses… for a woman.

 

Reaching her hands slowly forward in a gesture of peace, Maleficent’s voice was beseeching. “Revenge never works if done hastily and in anger, Isobel. I know this well.”

 

“Says the woman who hurls curses at a baby and fate hands her true love on a fookin’ silver platter,” Isobel spat.

 

Undeterred by the show of spite, Maleficent continued to inveigle Isobel back into a semblance of rationality. “That’s fair,” she acceded. “It’s also true that I know what it’s like to be regarded as ugly, and monstrous. I can still taste the shame of being struck with these cursed horns… the agony of my wings being stolen off of my very back with a saw-chain. _I understand_ , Isobel. Let me help you.”

 

Isobel straightened, and held her chin up arrogantly. She refused to be treated as a child any longer, and felt another layer of ice coat her deadened heart as she consciously began to sever the bond between herself and her staunchest defender in this life. “It’s too late for help, Mother. Even yours.”

 

* * *

 

 

Upon overhearing her mother telling both her mama and Diaval some of the morning’s happenings inside of Isobel’s bedchamber as she walked by the familiar’s sick room, Luna had squared her shoulders and set her teeth. She didn’t stay long outside the room, not one to spy.

 

Ignoring the protest of her back, she waddled down the spiral stairway to the kitchens. Only four months through her seven-month pregnancy, Luna still felt enormous. Alexander had told her on many occasion how beautiful he found her belly rounded with child, but it only made her feel self-conscious. Still, the feeling of life growing inside of her was a calming influence to the young woman, a veritable source of joy. She grinned proudly as she passed a few councilors along her way, subtly placing a palm to the top of her burgeoning abdomen and meeting their curious stares with a look of triumph.

 

Entering the kitchens, Luna’s smile widened further as the little mortal women sprinted over to her, especially the young ones. They’d cooed and fussed over her for the past month the royal family had been in residence. Human women loved babies, and she’d used that influence shamelessly to raid the cupboards and cellars for snacks between meals. Normally, the head cook would have found such picking from the stores a bother, but the portly woman simply smiled these days and adjusted the inventory accordingly. Sometimes, she’d even leave a plate of blessedly salty bacon out for the Princess to find on a late-night snack jaunt, well aware that Luna did not take meat during meals with Queen Maleficent out of deference and respect.

 

A rasher of the cured meat was promptly stuffed into Luna’s palm by the cook, the woman’s face alight with happiness at a daytime visit from the beautiful Princess. “So, your Highness… News from up top?” she queried.

 

Ah, gossip. Another thing that human women loved, Luna had come to learn. A pleasant look crossed her face after she’d munched the piece of bacon. “The same, I’d suppose. Nobody’s died yet,” she laughed mirthlessly, attempting at a joke. Suddenly, her emotions swung the opposite direction and Luna found herself melancholy beyond reason, tears dripping from her eyes.

 

Those that had experienced pregnancy in the room shared knowing looks, and the head cook patted a fat hand gently onto the Princess’s shoulders to ease her into a chair. “Easy, milady. It’ae be oo’right,” the woman soothed.

 

Luna sniffled, smiling gratefully for the comfort. “I’m not here for myself today. It’s Isobel’s name day and she’s not had her supper yet, poor thing. Not even a party,” she whispered. It wasn’t entirely true that _nobody_ had tried to bring Bel food, but she wasn’t about to air the entire basket of her family’s dirty laundry to the staff.

 

At that, the cook’s chubby face turned upwards to stare through the ceiling in the direction Luna knew the main keep to be. The mortal’s face paled, and she gulped. “Aye then. Even she mus’ be fed too,” she murmured, and set to bustling around the kitchen with the other ladies to assemble a tray of food.

 

It pained Luna to see the human women’s reaction to the very mention of Isobel, let alone in passing about her sister having to eat. Were they so very spineless that Bel _eating_ scared them so? As she felt the beginnings of anger creasing at her eyes, Luna took a deep breath and focused on relaxing her face into calm. She’d been trained long and to the pain by the Unseelie never to reveal her emotions or motives – it gave one the advantage in an exchange, and forced the other party into truthfulness when they were not bound to it by their very nature. Humans could be vile, lying creatures. The goodness in her heart warred with the logic in her mind when faced with these confusing interactions with ‘her people.’

 

Once the tray had been properly assembled, Luna stood quickly and ignored the slight dizziness caused by doing so. Taking the tray from the surprised cook’s hands, she muttered her thanks and began to ascend the stairs again.

 

The women called after her to walk slowly, and Luna sneered in annoyance when she was sure they could no longer see her face. What was it with her mothers, Alexander and the staff alike treating her as if she was spun glass? It was beyond infuriating.

 

Higher and higher she climbed the stairs, ignoring the whispers, bows and curtsies of courtiers along the way.   It must be odd to see their princess carrying a tray of food, but that wasn’t Luna’s problem today – it was solely their own idiocy about how one should behave, and she refused to have time for it.

 

Pausing outside Isobel’s chamber door to place the food on a chair and hold a stitch in her side, Luna wheezed. The confounded baby was rolling in her belly, agitated and kicking. Throwing her head back, she rubbed at her stomach. “Hush… hush you naughty little thing,” she teased, willing the babe to still once more with glowing hands.

 

It did quiet down, but nestled close to her spine and away from her soothing hands. Luna tsked at it – her back always ached when the bairn laid this way. She imagined it was being unreasonable about her request and chuckled, feeling silly at the thought. Babies couldn’t reason, let alone a baby in the womb.

 

Grasping the doorknob, she pushed with her other hand to gain entrance. The door wouldn’t budge. Luna tried again, but to no avail. Stepping backwards, she stared at the bedchamber door as if it were a puzzle.

 

A hook on the doorframe bore a ring of three bronze keys – Isobel had been locked inside. As if to answer her question, Bel whimpered loudly from inside the room.

 

Scowling at the thought of her dear sister being locked away all alone, Luna snatched the keys off the hook and jammed the first one into the lock, fumbling to turn it. “Hang on, Bel! I’m coming…” she called.

 

As the door clunked open, Luna withdrew the key and hung the ring back up. Forgetting the tray on the chair, she rushed into the bedchamber, skidding to a stop at the edge of the bed when she saw Isobel’s wings and back. Her beloved sister was weeping and trying to hide behind her wings from whoever entered. Looking around, Luna noticed that the windows were shut, and probably locked as well.

 

“Oh, Isobel… What happened? What did you do?” Luna sighed.

 

“I frighten people, even Mother. _I’m evil, Lu_. My face…” Isobel sobbed.

 

Seeing the blue and purple streaked wings shaking gently, Luna reached out to comfort them, but pulled back. Isobel didn’t like to be touched anymore, she reminded herself. “Is that why you’re locked in here?” she asked.

 

Abruptly, the wings stilled and stiffened. “Aye. Mother doesn’t want me going after Caitriona,” Isobel growled. She’d also raked her mother’s arms and pushed her, but Luna didn’t need to know that.

 

The mercurial display made shivers run down Luna’s spine, and her brows furrowed. “Mother locked you in here?”

 

Faster than lightning during a summer storm on the Moors, Isobel leapt from the bed. “Solas a mhúchadh. Dofheicthe mar oíche,”[2] she breathed out while doing so – her figure turning nearly invisible.

 

Luna watched the glamour spread like water over Isobel’s skin, leaving only a shimmering edge to her form like the gleam of a beach’s waves at sunset. It gave her a fright, and she grasped at her belly where the baby thrashed once more. Her sister advanced on her backward path, and Luna’s heart thundered in her chest. Glamour this advanced was the work of the Unseelie. “Where’d you learn such a spell?!” she yelped.

 

Isobel’s disembodied voice sounded like the wind just before a storm, with an edge of exasperation. “Nobody taught me. I made it up when I was just a wee girl.” Pushing past Luna, her watery figure rushed out of the bedchamber door and down the hall.

 

Racing after her, Luna stopped to look around as soon as she reached the hallway. The figure of her sister was gone, vanished into thin air in the darker light. A guard was thrown aside much farther down, yelling his astonishment.

 

“Isobel!” Luna screamed. “Isobel, come back!”

 

* * *

 

 

Maleficent’s palms cradled a pale, wrinkled and weak hand between them as she bent over the edge of a bed. This had once been Sola’s bedchamber, and Diaval had purposely been set up here when he arrived. If she could contain all of her life’s sadness in one room to lock it away forever once done, it would be a blessing.

 

Diaval was propped up on the bolster pillow, grinning. His once raven-black hair had faded to gray and white, the skin around his scarred cheeks sagging with age. “Y’know, if all I had to do to get you to hold my hand was prepare to die, I’d ha’e done it long ago,” he joked before hacking a cough, wincing from the pain.

 

A lone tear slipped over the faerie’s severe cheekbone, and she reached up to wipe it away. “Please,” she whispered, almost pleadingly. “Please let me reverse it.”

 

Musing his mouth as if thinking what to say, Diaval looked away from her sad beauty. The curtains looked particularly interesting, framing the evening’s setting sun. Choosing to ignore her request, he changed the subject. “I donnae what I was thinkin’, asking you to change me back to die as a man. I’d always thought the humans weak for moanin’ and gripin’ about being old. Now I kin why so many of them off themselves. It hurts, Maleficent. Donnae make it harder on me now.”

 

“What hurts? I can send for Laurentina to help…” she worried, trying to slip her hand from his. He closed his fist around her willowy fingers then, tugging her gently back down.

 

“Donnae fret. I hear it’s normal,” Diaval rasped from the exertion of pulling her back. “I donnae want _Laurentina_ ,” he retorted grumpily. “Stay.”

 

The normally stoic faerie Queen seemed to sag under the weight of the request. “I will stay,” she whispered, seemingly to convince herself. “I’ll stay until the bitter end. You know that.”

 

Through the open doorway, Diaval spied a shimmering. His face lit up as he realized who it was underneath that sneakiness – he’d been asking for his favorite of Maleficent’s children since he arrived. The little imp had figured out a way to venture from her room without having her injured face seen. If there was anything Diaval knew about children (and he knew a lot,) it was that when they were trying to meet you halfway, you should let them. Making it seem like he didn’t realize Isobel was in the chamber was difficult, but he turned his attention away from the gleaming mass that darted behind a chifforobe.

 

“So, about Isobel,” he spoke back to Maleficent, “Ye’ must convince her that the scars she bears don’ diminish her beauty. Yours only made ye’ stronger, right? Ye’ learned to live with the horns, to walk with your stick. In the end, everything worked out fine. I like me scars. It makes me feel brave to ‘member all the times I survived havin’ the stuffin’ pounded outta me.”

 

Maleficent’s eyes were glassy as she sniffed and looked away from him. “I don’t see her accepting them as anything more than the ugliness she feels inside, Diaval,” she snapped.

 

The raven-man frowned, squeezing her hand. “Give ‘er a chance, Maleficent. It’s not been long.”

 

Shaking her unbound hair around her shoulders, Maleficent sighed. “You don’t understand. I had to… I had to lo-“

 

Outside the bedchamber, Luna was yelling for Alexander and the sergeant-at-arms. Maleficent snatched her hand from Diaval and fluttered over to the doorway. “Luna! Whatever is the matter?” she demanded.

 

The Princess seemed distraught to Diaval’s now-feeble eyes, but he could hear the distress plainly in her voice. “Oh Mother! She’s gone! I unlocked the door to give her supper and…” Her voice choked off into a despondent wail.

 

It all became clear to Diaval, then. _‘Shifty little thing,’_ he thought, looking back at the chifforobe with admiration. _‘Just like her mother.’_

He decided not to inform Maleficent or Luna of Isobel’s whereabouts. If she needed to carry on her journey in this life, who were they to stop her? As he lay dying, many things had become clearer to the raven. He’d been held back his entire life – first for a life debt, and then for unrequited love. It wasn’t so much that he begrudged Maleficent for her hold on him; Gods knew he enjoyed being by her side for so many years. But then again, Isobel ought not to be forced away behind a locked door, either. She deserved the chance to fly into the night and find Caitriona. She deserved her chance at love.

 

Aurora’s imposing voice rose over the clamoring discussion between Maleficent and Luna, pleading with them to be calm. Alexander had made his way down the hall and was of a mind to do everything but be peaceful, fidgeting with his sword nervously. Diaval swallowed, prepared to lie directly to his former Mistress and family to protect the little Halfling.

 

“Eh! D’you think I could pass to the next world in some peace o’er here!” he yelled, sputtering from the force of it.

 

The group stopped their arguing at once and turned to him. Aurora looked apologetic, and the petite faerie adjusted her heavy crown that had slipped forward during her scrambling from the council chambers. “We’re so very sorry, Diaval. We’ll take this discussion elsewhere,” she said measuredly while glancing at the rest of her family. Taking Maleficent’s hand, she made to lead her wife away from the room.

Maleficent tugged back, looking back at Diaval with agonized eyes. “You don’t mind?”

 

Raising his hands off the blankets a bit, he motioned for her to go. “I donnae mind for a bit. Go an’ find her, and then come back.”

 

Nodding her agreement, Maleficent reached for the door and pulled it shut behind her. The yelling began afresh outside the room, but it lowered in volume as the group moved away and down the hall.

 

Once he could no longer hear them, Diaval peered back at the chifforobe. “The coast is clear, you scamp,” he muttered. He heard the faerie language chanted, and the glimmering liquid-like disguise fell from Isobel as she peeked at him. His heart clenched at the sight of her beautiful face marred by welts and scars, but Diaval kept his face neutral.

 

“Why did you do that?” Isobel asked skittishly, her eyes darting from him to the hallway and back again.

 

“I’ve ne’er lied direct to yer mother’s face before. Seemed like a fun idea,” he shrugged and then opened his arms for a hug.

 

A sweet giggle escaped the darkly painted lips of the Princess, and for a moment Diaval’s heart soared. He could always bring out the best in bad-tempered faeries. Isobel folded herself into his embrace, her downy wings tickling the skin of his hands.

 

Pushing Isobel back, Diaval knew that urgency was needed for her to escape undetected. “Ye’ can go out my window. Can ye’ fly with that invisibility spell o’er ye’?”

 

“I can,” Isobel smiled, her voice a tad haughty. “But once I’m out there, I need to hide my wings. Nobody out in the highlands should recognize me on account of my face, but my wings…” she paused, going back behind the wardrobe. She pulled out Maleficent’s battle coat and held it up for approval.

 

Diaval whistled. “A bit heavy and dark for a lass as pretty as ye’, don’cha think?”

 

Isobel shook her head. “What I plan to do, I need Mother’s strength for.”

 

“It’s not your Mother’s strength ye’ need. Ye’ have yer own, Bel my sweet,” the raven murmured his disagreement.

 

Rolling her eyes, Isobel sat on the edge of his bed once more. A small girl replaced the young woman momentarily when she spoke. “Does it hurt, Diaval?”

 

“Pshah!” he waved her off. “I’m fairly certain I’ll be here when you get back, totin’ Caitriona.” He met her gaze, a look of understanding passing between them. Still, it hurt Diaval to know that he was lying to the faerie’s face. Isobel didn’t deserve his lies, but he didn’t want to hold her here any longer than he should. “Go on, then,” he pointed towards the window.

 

Sliding the coat over one arm to carry with her, Isobel turned towards the window, sparing a loving glance back at him. “I love you, pretty bird,” she told him, her wildly glittering eyes gentling a moment.

 

Diaval noticed then that she’d tied Sola’s sword around her waist, hidden beneath a white overskirt. The scabbard was highly detailed, and he’d know it anywhere. It dragged a bit on the floor, peeking out.

 

“Love you too, pretty girl,” he whispered as she murmured her incantation once more. Isobel slid invisible as night into the darkness, the curtains wafting in the wake of the breeze created from her wings.

 

* * *

 

 

On the ridges of a highland hillock, two men walked drunkenly home from the village. They led their horse behind them, singing gaily.

 

From behind a large boulder, a short woman with gleaming white-blonde hair stepped out. Her black leather coat was fine, and edged on the shoulder with black feathers, but her face was grotesque.

 

“Michty me!” the first of the lads yelped, tugging at the steed to halt.

 

His friend looked at the young woman and proclaimed loudly, “Saints alive, wench. Yer ugly mug gave me a fright.”

 

Inhaling deeply, the woman seemed to glow in the dark of the night, and her eyes gleamed with anger. “Tell me gentlemen, do you follow the old Gods or the new?” she inquired, her voice like a song meant to draw the very deepest truths from their lips.

 

The first man’s face was suspicious, but his friend’s lips were loose when he’d partaken too much drink. “Why, the Lord is our good Shepherd, lass. None of that faerie nonsense crosses my doorstep.”

 

Without warning, the gleam of a sword flashed across the distance between the woman and the gentlemen. Their chests bloomed red, and the men grabbed at their slash wounds to fall on the grasses.

 

“Why do you do this, you witch?” the first called out, feeling himself weaken as he bled out.

 

Kicking the man away from the stallion, Isobel grinned wickedly. “I needed your horse. I reward you for your service to the Fair Folk.”

 

Sheathing Sola’s sword once more, she mounted the steed and galloped over the ridge.

 

The men could die alone for their sins.

 

* * *

 

[1] Samhain – November, specifically November 1st until sunset.

[2] Solas a mhúchadh. Dofheicthe mar oíche – Extinguish the light. Invisible as night.


	39. Ar an bhFál Folaíocht, Oíche (Upon This Royal House, Darkness Falls)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to all my readers who have been most patient while I edited and re-edited this chapter numerous times. I’d like to also thank Kleenex tissues for supporting me through this time of need. 
> 
> As always, reads and reviews are cherished. I always try to respond back in thanks and conversation regarding constructive criticism/confusion/etc. Please, don’t be shy.
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:  
> Loch Etive, Mychael Danna (from A Celtic Tale – The Legend of Deidre)  
> Lament, Mychael Danna (from A Celtic Tale – The Legend of Deidre)   
> Ice Queen, Within Temptation   
> Jillian (I’d Give My Heart), Within Temptation

**“Were you but lying cold and dead,**

**And lights were paling out of the West,**

**You would come hither, and bend your head,**

**And I would lay my head on your breast;**

**And you would murmur tender words,**

**Forgiving me, because you were dead:**

**Nor would you rise and hasten away,**

**Though you have the will of the wild birds,**

**But know your hair was bound and wound**

**About the stars and moon and sun:**

**O would, beloved, that you lay**

**Under the dock-leaves in the ground,**

**While lights were paling one by one.**

_“He Wishes His Beloved Were Dead,” W.B. Yeats_

** ** ****  


Diaval’s breathing was cursory in the dim light of the bedchamber, as if only prolonging the inevitable. Besides the sound of his rasping and the hitching breaths of those who sat in wait with him, the breeze on the freezing highlands and the sputtering of the candle wicks were the only noise. His once proud face was now replete with sunken in cheeks, and his forehead deeply wrinkled with age. Wispy white hair had replaced his inky black, feathered mane, but pale, willowy fingers tenderly ran through it as if it were the finest spun silver. The raven-man’s head lay upon the robed lap of his dearest companion, mistress, and almost lover as she sat propped up in the bed to cocoon the man with love in his last hours.

 

Aurora crept into the room, tiptoeing and fluttering her wings softly once she’d come through the side door. Her eyes softened and welled with unshed tears at the sight before her. Maleficent cradled Diaval’s face now, attempting to smooth out the man’s countenance as he grimaced in silent pain. The towering faerie’s gabled legs dwarfed him, her black on black ensemble making it appear as if she were the Angel of Death herself, simply biding her time until his soul was ready.

 

“Mo stóirin?”[1] the Queen of Dál Riata addressed her mate as if the faerie was as fragile as glass, and sat down on a waiting chair next to the bed. “How is he faring?”

Maleficent inhaled sharply and looked up from her lap. “As any forty-odd year old raven would be,” she snapped, her rear fang teeth clicking with the force of the reply.

Just as quickly, one of the hands cradling Diaval’s head came up to press against her forehead as the faerie Queen leaned forward, her wings’ primary quills twitching in withheld emotion. The hand then shot out from her face and reached for Aurora as far as it could without disturbing the man below. “Aurora… I am sorry,” she apologized, her eyes tight as the tension in the air.

 

With wary eyes, Aurora settled back into the chair she’d been ready to vacate. As much as she loved Diaval – her friend and erstwhile caretaker as a child, she refused to be a burden to the situation, nor a scapegoat. Nodding tersely, she wrapped her coppery wings around her shoulders and preened the ends with her fingernails in distraction.

At Aurora’s refusal to speak her forgiveness aloud, Maleficent turned her gaze away to stare obstinately at the wall. The strain on she and Aurora had been high since she’d refused to go after Isobel, even after the news of two men slain on the hills the night of her disappearance.   She’d argued vehemently that chasing after the girl would only make her run farther, and possibly do more evil in her desperation – something that Aurora rejected.

 

 _‘There is good in our daughter, Maleficent! I never gave up on you. How could you simply give up on her?”_ she had shouted so loudly that the windows rattled in their bedchamber.

The more indulging mother of the two had argued that perhaps the men had offended Isobel, or tried to accost her. One thing was certain: Sola’s blade was missing, and the men had died from sword wounds cleaner than any wrought iron blade would have done. That was nine days ago.

 

And then, there was Diaval. Those who observed her interactions had always regarded Maleficent as a somewhat aloof participant in her daughters’ lives. Of course, it wasn’t that she didn’t love them more than life itself; it was simply her nature to allow life’s lessons to come before her firmly guiding hand. Diaval needed their attention, and her loyalty _now._ Isobel was doing what the little imp did best: run. Maleficent was of the mind to let her, the memory of her daughter’s claws sinking into the tender flesh of her forearms still raw.

 

Still, she’d sent Alexander to make silent note of any happenings around the noble houses and the major towns, short of inquiring directly if anyone had seen Isobel. They didn’t want to cause a riot, nor allow their subjects to know that the Princess had escaped an attempt at house arrest that they’d not even been privy to. Only the palace staff knew of her disfigurement, though it wouldn’t take long for tongues to loosen over time. Human trustworthiness was questionable.

 

In an attempt to hide that Isobel had indeed vacated the palace, Luna had assumed her sister’s identity in the empty room twice a day for meals while in heavy glamour - thanks in part to a white-blonde curl taken from Isobel’s pillow. The use of blatant dark magic had angered Alexander beyond belief. It was one thing to accentuate one’s appearances, but to delve so deeply into the façade of another person was dangerous in the long run. It didn’t help that for hours after the subterfuge, Luna swore that she could feel the pervasive sadness that lingered in the threads of magic drawn from the hair. The babe in her belly would throw fits as she suffered the ill effects.

 

Interrupting her reverie, Diaval stirred under Maleficent’s hands. His voice was weak and coarse from lack of use. “Take… me… home,” he pleaded.

“Shh,” she susurrated as Aurora leaned forward to listen more closely. “You are home,” Maleficent assured, though her tongue curled at the twisting of the truth.

Diaval’s eyes squinted open to peer at the two faeries. “Nae,” he ground out. “Fly… The Moors. Fly me.”

 

“But, it’s freezing outside!” Aurora protested, regarding him worriedly. If it would be cold to both her and Maleficent, she could only imagine how the biting winds would feel against the feeble skin of the dying man, especially in flight.

 

Turning his eyes upwards to stare longingly into pools of swirling jade, peridot and amber in the fading light, Diaval made his case. “’Tis me wish,” he coughed.

 

The cough turned into a hack, and Maleficent leaned him to the side to wipe a kerchief against his mouth. Pulling it away, she was aggrieved at the sight of blood. Her wings began to droop, and their edges rubbed together in a bristling manner. She looked up at Aurora with resignation, and repeated her dearest friend’s request. “It’s his wish, mo chroí.[2] Will you come?”

 

Sweeping to stand, Aurora attempted to rein in her displeasure at Diaval’s last request. The weather would kill him, she knew. It would be horribly cruel to Maleficent to have him die in her arms while flying.   She walked over to the chest and began pulling out the thickest furs they had and tossed them at the bed. “We’ll wrap him well,” she declared regally.

 

And they did – by the time Maleficent and Aurora had finished garbing themselves in heavy cloaks and swaddling the man who was now barely skin and bones, he began to complain of being too warm.

 

“Hush now,” Maleficent muttered at him, then. “Too warm inside will be just right outside.” Cradling the bundle of raven-man and furs into her arms, she motioned with her chin for Aurora to open the balcony doors.

 

Out they flew, side by side; Aurora attempting to block the harshest of the winds from meeting Diaval’s prone form. The longer they were in the air, the wider her friend’s smile became. As far as the Queen knew, Diaval had never flown this way before – it was intrinsically different being held while flying versus flying onesself. Still, he was once again airborne. It must have been a balm to his raven heart.

 

Through the skies they soared, reaching the Moors within an hour – quite a feat when carrying a load, however light. Landing beside the rippling waves of the lake beneath the few ancient trees that had survived the Unseelie’s razing, they set to work unwrapping some of the outer furs from Diaval’s form. It was too cold up on the Rowan tree’s cliff, but they’d been here many a time together – laughing, slinging mud, and conversing. He would recognize it, and be comforted.

 

Maleficent resumed her vigil, sliding the blanketed form back into her lap. Instead of his head being laid down, she propped Diaval into the crook of an arm to support him in a reclined position, the better to see his surroundings and Aurora.

 

Stealthily, the curious fae of the Moors poked their heads around trees and rock. The Geancanach fire faeries danced in the air a few yards away, lending some light in the very early dawn that was breaking over the horizon. Diaval sighed deeply in relief, his coal black eyes fixed on Aurora’s form.

 

Finally, he spoke. Even to their sharp faerie hearing, his voice was quieter than the breeze. “Will ye… sing fer me?”

 

Aurora’s smile was sad, but she managed to cut through the dark moment with the brightness that always shined from her soul. “Well, I am no Caoineadh[3]…” she laughed lightly. “But yes, of course.”

 

Diaval cracked a smile in return. “Thanks be… the Gods ye’ aren’t,” he whispered back.

 

Looking at Maleficent’s blank stare into the distance, and accepting when there was no response from her mate to the joking, Aurora turned her back on the pair to gaze out on the lake. As she sat up and inhaled deeply to begin her song, she knew the Lament of the heroine Deidre of the Sorrows would be appropriate, as their own lives held a similar parallel to the tale. She’d always loved the story as a child, living in the seclusion of the woods.

 

She carried the tune mightily, her words echoing across the Moors. Even the water nymphs stopped their skating across the waves to pause and listen, heads bowed in the grief evident in their Queen’s voice as she sang, “In skies of frozen snow, where winds of sadness roam; red suns are burnin' low…”

 

Pausing to sniff back tears, Aurora continued her song of woe. “You were my home where I would go, in green fields now unknown, your name upon the Standing Stone. Love invites one last call… when death from life begins to fall.” With a shuddering breath and a wipe of her eyes, her voice lifted on the winds. “The streams no longer go to tides of distant seas. No love can grow old without memories, for your arms my home, are where I would sleep…”

 

A strangled sob from behind her brought the song to an interrupted end, and Aurora’s heart shattered at the sound. Turning ever so slowly towards where Maleficent held Diaval, she saw the trembling of her darling’s scarlet lips as they curled back over clenched teeth. Maleficent’s shaking hands no longer touched Diaval, rising from the man’s body at the wrists as if they were stained with blood.

 

The familiar looked out on the lake with a pleasant quirk to his lips, but he no longer drew breath.

 

Crawling towards the pair on her hands and knees, Aurora’s gentle fingers then slid her friends eyes closed. A tear escaped her cheek to fall upon his, and rolled down to drip from his chin. Moving delicately, she sidled up to Maleficent and under a wing to lay her head on her mate’s shoulder. The shoulder shook beneath her cheek, but Aurora made no action to move, nor did she speak. There were not words for this moment.   There were only the sound of Maleficent’s wails as she threw back her head, finishing the lament without lyric.

 

* * *

 

 

Two guards stood sentinel on their Lord’s outer bailey wall, just over the gatehouse. The air was frigid, and their breaths fogged the early morning air.

 

“Did’ye hear aboot the Fair Queen’s pet?” the senior guard asked the young lad in training, rubbing his hands together over the flame of a torch to keep warm.

 

“Nah, wha’ happened?” the young man fresh from the country asked. He’d only just arrived after competing in a feat of skill held in the autumn by the Lord to cull potential warriors and guards from the peasantry on his land.

 

Stroking his beard thoughtfully, the elder guard sighed. “Apparent like, he’d grown too old. Corbies donnae live longer ‘an ten year in the wilds, but he was _her_ corbie. I ‘spose he were ‘round thirty or forty year old. She and the Good Queen took ‘im to the Moors in the wee morn two week ago to die, and there he was buried. Shame, that.”

 

Inclining his head in confusion, the lad shrugged. “Why’s it a shame? He lived the good life, all fancy-like in the palace gardens. “

 

Rolling his eyes for good measure, the man rebuked the youth. “He were Queen Maleficent’s friend, ye bumpkin’. ‘Ave you e’er seen a faerie filled with grief? I would nae take a coffer of silver coin to be in tha’ palace employ right now. She’s probably ragin’ something fierce. I hear the Princess Isobel is ill...”

 

“S-Sir...” the young man interrupted, tugging on the leather underarmour sleeve of his senior. “There’s a girl at the gate.” The boy’s voice dripped with fear, and the older guard turned to look where he was gazing, shielding his eyes to see better.

 

Indeed, roughly ten yards from the gatehouse door stood a woman of middling stature. Her black coat’s feathered shoulders ruffled stiffly in the wind, and her face and head were hidden by a drawn black hood. The maid’s finely embroided brocade stomacher stood out from her undergown of white silks.

 

As the guard’s eyes fell to the bottom of her dress, ice rushed through his veins. The white had been stained red with blood, long dried.   He’d heard tales running around the village nearby about a witch in white tearing apart a keep fifty miles to the south with her bare hands, leaving no survivors except one who did the blathering.

 

Most people thought it was utter nonsense, and that the southern Lord’s keep had merely caught fire – a common, though unfortunate event. The only reason they’d gone on about it was because Lord mac Selbaig hadn’t been in residence there for over a month – and his son Aengus, the Lord here, hadn’t said a word about the supposed tragedy before riding off a week ago. It was strange times.

 

Squinting his eyes further, he saw long, bare toes poking out from beneath the skirts, pale even against the snows. Blinking rapidly, the man knew that this was no witch. _‘Faerie,_ ’ he thought silently, not wanting to offend the woman below with the word. He surmised she must be hiding her wings beneath the long coat.

 

His mind scrambled to remedy any affront perceived by the lethal maiden, and the guard turned to grasp his luncheon hunk of bread. Holding it aloft for the faerie to see, he tossed it down to her. “A good morning to you, Fair Lady,” he yelled.

 

The faerie tilted her head beneath the hood, and a hand shot out to catch the bread. As her hand had left her hip, the guard spotted the gleam of a silver hilt. She was armed.

 

Pushing his young charge behind him, the elder sentry gulped before finding the voice for his questions. “I am at your service, and ask nothing in return. Might I know your allegiance and what brings you to our door?” he called out across the space between them.

 

Behind him, the hapless lad laughed aloud. “Y’think she’s a faerie? It’s just a dirty, hungry girl! If’n she’s a faerie, where be her wings?”

 

Under the faerie’s hood, the older man saw a green glow and the hint of a pale face. Holding his hands aloft, he begged. “Please, my Lady! He be young and foolish... I beg your pardon!” For good measure, he cuffed the idiot boy with his forearm, sending him scrambling back into a pile of sandbags.

 

There seemed to be the hint of a smile in the green glow before it faded. Lifting her head, the maiden reached up to remove her hood.

 

Gleaming silvery blonde hair with shots of gold revealed itself, as well as the most beautiful face marred by unfortunate scars. “I have no allegiance, good sir,” the young woman called towards the wall. “If this is the estate of Aengus mac Selbaig, I seek either your Lord or his sister, Caitriona. Are they in residence?”

 

Instantly wary, the guard was truthful nevertheless. She would be able to tell if he lied. “Our Lord Aengus has not been in residence for close to a week, my Lady. His sister remains the companion of her Highness the Princess Isobel, to my knowledge.”

 

A manic gleam crossed the faerie’s eyes at that. Raising her hands to clench green fire that suddenly swirled around the outer bailey’s yard, she opened her mouth to speak.

 

“For your service to me, you shall by my one survivor,” Isobel’s voice boomed, as she began launching hexes at the gatehouse door.

 

* * *

 

 

In the highest tower of a castle far to the north, Caitriona lay beneath threadbare blankets. Her hosts did naught but force feed her gruel on the occassion when they remembered, and slip belladonna into the food so that she would fall asleep and no longer cry. The consistency with which they were using it was beginning to dull her mind, and Caitriona knew that if they kept it up, she might never wake.

 

They’d stopped beating her after the last time they’d moved, from Dunaverty Castle in Cinn Tìre[4] to Innes Chonnel Castle on Loch Obha, though her screams never abated. It might have been the pain of her broken leg, or the pain of being separated from her faerie – the men knew not, nor did she correct their loud musings.

 

It was a risky move to keep her so close to the Moors’ Loch Etive. They were hiding Caitriona a mere day’s ride to the high stone borders of Queen Aurora’s faerie kingdom. On a clear day, she could even see the Moors’ central lake gleaming like a twin to Obha from her cell, though the human girl had no way of knowing exactly where she was.

 

Keys jangled in the chamber’s lock, and Caitriona turned her face away from the door. It was nearing dinner time, and she pressed her lips firmly together in preparation to refuse the deadly analgesic laden slop. She’d decided to put up a fight.

 

The man behind the door swore that the lock was jammed, and Caitriona breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps it would jam forever. As she turned her tired eyes back to pane-less window that allowed the bitter Highland air in at all hours, they teared up at the sight of Sola.

 

Her dear Sola, whom her mind had surely conjured in an attempt to keep the madness at bay. She’d come and go, as all ghosts do. Every time she felt her heart thudding to almost still, the red haired faerie’s face would be all she could see. Caitriona’s chest would burst with warmth at the sight, her heart galloping painfully once more. As she lay there wishing she could simply die, Sola always stood in the way.

 

Convinced that the man would be a while, she spoke to her hallucination. “Are you my imagination? The sun is setting outside wherever we are, and I promise that my shallow exhalations are my love for you.” What was meant to be a poetic declaration sounded silly and jumbled to Caitriona’s ears.

Sola simply smiled and shrugged roguishly.

 

Bolstered at finally eliciting a reaction from the spirit, Caitriona’s voice continued to rasp thickly. “Is it cold today? I’ve ceased to feel much else than the dulling pain, but the sight of you brings me back. If my hand could touch you, would you feel as icy as the nip of wind on my toes?”

A wince came from the faerie Princess’s eyes, and her spectral wings prickled in mild irritation.

 

“Are you here so that you can see what you meant to me?” Caitriona demanded. “I kissed her, you know. I love her. Why do you still protect me?”

The vision of Sola wavered slightly, sparkling at the edges as she floated towards the window and looked out. She gave Caitriona a curt nod, and pounded a fist to where her heart would have been before fading.

* * *

 

[1] Mo stóirin – My darling one.

[2] mo chroí – my heart

[3] Caoineadh – Pronounced ‘quee-nah.’ “Keeners” are faeries whose duty is to lament death and guide the souls to Tír na nÓg. Commonly, they are called bean sìth, or Banshees.

[4] _Cinn Tìre –_ Ancient Kintyre. Dunaverty Castle was the seat of the Kintyre Lords until the 13th century.


	40. Cinniúint Comhraic (Fighting Fate)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some quick notes on this chapter, for readers that enjoy my drivel about Scottish history and languages; The Pictish language has long been lost, and while modern historians speculate that they utilized and understood Ogham, it is not entirely certain. We do know that they did use it in some of their carvings, but it is also accompanied by Pictish glyphs that we have no translation for. As such, it's often assumed that they spoke a northern dialect of Insular Celtic language, like old Irish (not to be confused with today's Irish Gaelic.) In this chapter, I utilize this assumption and have translated accordingly from Old Irish for you.
> 
> While Aurora and Maleficent are not technically part of the House I've placed them in (being fictional characters,) matrilineal descent in Scotland's (Alba - Dal Riata) royal history is faulty at best and completely absent at worst until around the 14th century. It is documented that Cenel nGabrain does indeed "die out," due to "too many girls," as it were. So, use your imagination with me. It is true that these two Houses fought over the Kingship of Dal Riata during a period without a King of direct lineage. Dungal mac Selbaig and his son Aengus are real historical characters, as are the familial ties of the Pictish royalty depicted in this chapter (even Caitriona, ooh!) The Picts were by far the most equal society towards women, and it shows in the historical records of scribes who wrote down the lineage in the 8th century. Women of blood were not left out, and considered important.
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:
> 
> The Vision, Mychael & Jeff Danna
> 
> Innocents, Miriam Stockley
> 
> Pale, Within Temptation
> 
> Noble Maiden Fair, Emma Thompson and Peigi Barker

 

" **They flee from me that sometime did me seek**

**With naked foot stalking in my chamber.**

**I have seen them gentle tame and meek**

**That now are wild and do not remember**

**That sometime they put themselves in danger**

**To take bread at my hand; and now they range**

**Busily seeking with a continual change.**

**Thanked be fortune, it hath been otherwise**

**Twenty times better; but once in special,**

**In thin array after a pleasant guise,**

**When her loose gown from her shoulders did fall,**

**And she me caught in her arms long and small;**

**And therewithal sweetly did me kiss,**

**And softly said, Dear heart, how like you this?**

**It was no dream, I lay broad waking.**

**But all is turned thorough my gentleness**

**Into a strange fashion of forsaking;**

**And I have leave to go of her goodness**

**And she also to use newfangleness.**

**But since that I so kindly am served,**

**I would fain know what she hath deserved."**

" _They Flee From Me," Sir Thomas Wyatt_

 

* * *

 

_Aurora raced from the edges of the Moors, her calves stinging from the icy snows that slushed up and over her boots. Across the hillocks nearest the Standing Stones that edged the border between her two kingdoms, a great battle raged. The screaming whinnies of horses falling upon pike and sword, and the shouts of wounded men assaulted her ears. At the edge of the teeming mass of man and beast rode Phillip, bannermen surrounding the King of Ulaidh as he called out orders to infantry and cavalry alike._

 

_Into the pale wintery sky, a familiar figure shot upwards to aim towards a plummeting body. The Queen recognized Alexander's white wings and dark hair from afar as he reached towards an injured Isobel, her flaxen curls swirling in the wind as she fell. A strangled shout burbled past the Queen's lips as she ran towards the scene._

 

_Another faerie flew fast into the air, dodging and twisting around the arrows that whizzed through the air from both sides of the battlefield. Aurora's heart raced – she would know those iridescent brown wings anywhere, and the long burnished mahogany hair that whipped through the foils that the great wings buffeted. Just as the faerie's arms wrapped around a small woman's body in the air, several arrows found their mark. The iron tipped weapons of the enemy sank deep into wing and chest._

 

_The proud faerie Queen stopped short to float in mid-air a moment before leaning backwards to freefall to the earth. There wasn't a sound from her ruby lips, but Caitriona mac Selbaig hollered for life and limb as she found herself entrapped in the dying woman's arms as they plunged rapidly towards the rocky field._

 

_Aurora let loose a scream that shook the trees and leapt into the skies. "Maleficent!"_

 

"Mama!"

 

" _Maleficent!"_ Aurora howled, sobbing into the cold air of the bedchamber.

 

"Mama, please!" an alarmed voice called out, while a body wrapped itself tightly around her.

 

Gulping air down, Aurora pushed at the body as she opened her eyes. Startled, she found Luna's anxious face staring back. The young faerie was panting, as if she had been running. Was she afraid?

Luna leaned away with a suddenly pained expression and rubbed at her burgeoning stomach. "Och, now it's awake, too," she groaned. "Mama... Did you have a nightmare?"

 

It was dark in the chamber; too dark. Aurora needed light to think. Throwing off the blankets with a flourish, she ignored the chattering of her teeth as she forewent her bed robe in favor of lighting multiple candles on the tables and writing desk in rapid succession. By the time she'd finished that task, the long match had burned down to her fingertips. She threw it into the fireplace before stoking the smoldering coals and adding a few more logs.

Her feet slapping the rugs over the cold stone floor with a heavy gait, Luna made her way drowsily towards her mother's mate. "Mama, it's nigh one in the morning," she muttered, pointing at the index candle that burned brightly from near the front door to the chamber. "Talk to me. You called out for Mother – what is..."

 

"Where did Alexander say that he had tracked your Mother last?" Aurora interrupted, rubbing tears away from her cheeks with sharp swipes. Now fully awake, she remembered that Maleficent was indeed not in the castle, but roving the countryside and Moors alike, looking for their wayward daughter and her lagan love.

Wary at the swift change of mood, Luna sighed and stretched her back while thinking of her answer. Alexander had lost track of Maleficent some days before, just north of Cinn Tìre as she entered the Moors from the North, near the Forbidden Mountain. She had suspected that the Lords of Dunaverty Castle were not as loyal as they appeared – even though they were considered kin of Aurora. Human politics boggled Luna at times, and she struggled to keep track of the dispersed, strange and short-lived family trees, so vast in contrast to the simple, overlapping and long-lived kin ties of the Fair Folk – well, not in these Moors, so much. The humans here were ever so... violent against their former Gods.

 

She'd never voice it aloud to the sensitive mind of Queen Aurora, but Luna could scarcely blame the Seelie and even then Unseelie for their fighting back and meddling into human affairs. The offense to their very nature as superior beings in every action taken against them by mortals was insufferable. The humans of Dal Riata sought material things; greedy and short sighted beings, all they found worth in was what they could amass. By thievery, trickery, or murder: so be it, humans found a way.

Aurora had raised an eyebrow and turned towards Luna in her long musing. Noticing this, the Princess bit her lip sheepishly and smiled. "I am sorry, Mama. My mind is... tired," she twisted the truth. Luna  _was_ exhausted. "Alexander tracked her to Dunaverty this week last before she went into the Moors. She'd made it quite apparent that she did not appreciate being tailed. Your kin welcomed her with no issue, and their keep stands. So, Isobel either doesn't suspect them, or hasn't made her way there yet."

 

The Queen harrumphed slightly before giving a small smile, and sat in her chair by the fire. Motioning for Luna to sit in the opposite chair, she began to ponder the situation as well. She was certain that her nightmare was truly the epitome of all that could go wrong in the current state of affairs. Her kin through her mother's side and her House, the Cenél nGabraín [ _1]_ retained great power over the lands – influence brought by simply being a man. Some of her cousins fancied themselves Kings of their small plots of land in the view that Aurora and Maleficent's line had produced no sons.

 

Now, Isobel's wave of destruction had rubbed salt in the old wounds between Cenél nGabraín and the House of Caitriona's father, Cenél Loairn. They'd long squabbled over the rule of Dal Riata – fighting blood oaths deeper into history than Aurora could comprehend at this hour of night. Cenél Loairn hurled accusation at Cenél nGabraín that they had sent a curse upon them, utilizing the Fair Folk magick. The highly Christianized house that shared many ties with Ulaidh in the South saw no difference between a pagan and a faerie's magick, and hadn't for some years. Centuries, even. Rumors had flown fast of a white-blonde witch that leveled the keeps of Cenél Loairn with her pure hatred, and it was a wonder that nobody suspected Isobel as of yet. Well, nobody except those who had planned it all in the first place.

 

The Queen was wise enough to know that the ruse of raising Isobel's vengeance had been done on purpose to cause issue between the two Houses. The effort to send the kingdom spiraling into backbiting and infighting had made her Royal stability tenuous at best. Dungal mac Selbaig, wherever the cursed man was, was probably cackling with glee.

 

Covering her forehead with a palm, Aurora leaned back in her chair. "Do you still think it's a boy, Luna?"

Luna frowned at the line of questioning, but answered truthfully. "I... I believe so. I wish it weren't so. If it is a boy, then he shall belong to the human world, won't he? Rather than to Alexander and I... I wish for a girl," she whispered sadly.

"For that, I do not blame you," the Queen muttered, though a boy-child might bring some strength back to their Royal claim.

Adjusting herself in the chair to a more comfortable position, Luna looked at the obviously stressed Queen that sat across from her. "It would make it easier for you and Mother, yes? If it were to be a boy."

 

Aurora shrugged mildly. "Who knows these days, darling? The world of men is vile and greedy, and shall take what they want no matter the sacrifice we offer. Your sweet sister has been ruined by their ambitions and intrigues. I swear it, they are worse than the intrigues of the Fae."

Nodding her agreement, Luna pouted a bit at the assessment. "And they say we are cruel. Here you are, forced to send Mother against her will to search for Isobel so that the humans do not know of her darkness. So what if they know! If we let them know our power, perhaps they would..."

" _Fear us_ , Luna. They'd fear us. I do not wish any part of that," Aurora snapped. "Do you have any idea how long it took your Mother and I to gain their respect?"

 

Luna shrank a bit at Aurora's tone. She hadn't wanted to raise the woman's ire, having seen it first hand against her Mother a fortnight ago. It hadn't been a good day for anyone upstairs in the castle, whatsoever. It was in stark contrast to the advance merrymaking of the staff and court downstairs in anticipation of Yuletide.

_Overhearing the raised voices of her mothers, Luna crept silently up the stairs and down the hallway to their chamber door. It was ajar, surprisingly – probably left open in their haste for privacy._

" _You do nothing but sit and mope about! The climate in small council is becoming rancorous, Maleficent... She needs to be found now, if not for our safety, then for Luna's! She simply cannot continue on with the glamour. It's driving a wedge between her and Alexander..." the Queen argued, slapping her hand on something for emphasis._

 

_The jarring sound echoed, as did the heavy breaths of her Mother. Luna could tell the difference now between both Maleficent's and Aurora's anger, and even their foot falls. Mother preferred to glide in a pacing manner to and fro; allowing air to whistle through her clenched teeth while making horrid faces. She could imagine it now, and winced._

 

" _Do you have any idea how much of a fight she might put up, Aurora?" Maleficent seethed, positively loathing having to physically restrain her own daughter to the point of injury._

 

" _And what if the human gentry find her first, Maleficent? What my father did will pale in comparison, I am sure!"_

 

_The slap of the window opening with force was the reply, followed by Aurora's stomping gait towards it. "Wait! Wait, Maleficent!" the Queen had called._

 

_Only the cold winds answered her, and Luna's eyes pricked with tears at the sound of Aurora's bitter crying as the draft wafted around the door._

 

"You ought to be back abed, Luna..." Aurora murmured, cupping a hand around the Princess's cheek as she leaned over the slumbering girl that looked so much like her love.

Luna's eyes popped back awake. She hadn't realized that she'd drifted off while remembering that awful day. "Only if you come too, Mama," she pleaded. The young faerie knew that Aurora hated sleeping alone, and would wander the chamber aimlessly without Mother there. Hence, she'd taken up residence in the bed with her – claiming Alexander's absence while trailing news of Maleficent or Isobel had left her lonely.

 

Aurora's shoulders hunched as she looked back at the bed, and Luna read between the lines. "You had a nightmare about Mother, and you're frightened to dream it again?"

"I know that if I ever have that particular dream again, I think I should die myself," the regal blonde said under her breath as she hefted herself between the covers once more. She patted the spot beside her for the daughter that needed rest more than her fear needed abating. "'Twas just a dream, Lu. Come, now."

 

Too weary to argue, the Princess did as she was bid. Blowing most of the candles out along her way, Luna tucked herself into the crook of Aurora's arm and threw a larger wing over her mama's petite copper wings that had already tucked under the woman. She'd have to preen them again in the morning, Luna thought – Mama had never quite understood the instinctual way of avoiding mussing her feathers.

When Aurora's other arm came around to rub lovingly on her stomach, Luna's sleepy mouth blurted out the question that had always laid on her tongue, but she'd never found the courage to ask. "Why did you and Mother not have more children? You could have a son..." the inquisitive comment ended in a great yawn.

 

Aurora's hand stilled on Luna's belly. "Never you mind, iníon [2]," she closed the subject gently, leaning out of the tangle of their wings to blow out the final candle.

 

In the darkness, Luna frowned. Her mothers' behavior would forever befuddle her, she was sure.

 

* * *

Maleficent shivered underneath the curl of her wings. However thickly she'd lined the hammock in the Rowan with fallen leaves, the winds still blew fiercely through the tree now that winter was at its peak.

Licking some frost off her lips, she burrowed deeper and attempted sleep once more. The sun would rise soon, and so would she – on this wild chase following the scarce clues of Isobel's whereabouts. The girl had been so quiet in her movements since she'd tore Aengus mac Selbaig's estate apart stone by stone nearly a moon ago. There had been no sign of campfires, and the farmers that dotted the countryside all denied having seen, fed, or housed a faerie knowingly. What was more infuriating was the lack of evidence that Caitriona mac Selbaig was even on these shores. Maleficent had flown hither and to over the kingdom, and there was nary a trace of the girl.

 

Of course, she couldn't very well insist entrance into rival House's lodgings, but a number of them had offered in a show of mock fealty. Those visits had been short, and ill tempered on both sides. Unless they were keeping Caitriona in a ruin or in a cave, both unpalatable to her mind, she was beginning to suspect that the human maiden had been taken offshore to Arran, Mull, or Iona.

 

As the faerie's pale green eyes closed to sleep, her thoughts turned once more to Isobel. However troubled her child was – she wanted nothing more than to find her, and convince her to come home. She knew that it wouldn't be that easy, not by far. Bel was too much like Maleficent in temperament. It would come to a fight, and the mother's heart would surely break more than it already had. Hiding her sorrow over Isobel's defection had been easy when Diaval needed care. Now, Maleficent had nothing more than thoughts of the woman-child she'd pursue to the ends of the earth, if only to show that she did indeed care. Her stubborn nature demanded it.  _Aurora demanded it._

 

Being as cold as she was, she did not fall too deeply into slumber. Instead, her mind wandered foggily through the thin layer between memory and dreams. Their pale-haired child being foremost in her mind, it was no surprise that Isobel featured prominently.

_Maleficent hummed as she walked the pathway of the castle greenhouse, her hip heavy with toting Bel. Turning an indulgent smile on the toddling babe, she was pleased when there was a curve upwards of the rosy bowed lips around a thumb. Isobel didn't smile enough._

 

" _Dea! Arís, aoibh gháire," she coaxed, mimicking the uncomfortable sensation with her own mouth again._ _ **Good! Smile, again.**_ _It was to remind herself, as well._

 

_Isobel turned her perpetually doleful eyes upwards, and tried to mimick the toothy expression. Showing both rows of teeth and gum, it looked more like a silent growl._

 

_Sighing, she stopped walking and hefted the child higher on her hip. "No, ní bhreall. Aiobh gháire!" the faerie showed her teeth again._ _**No, not a grimace. Smile!** _

 

_The two-year-old shrugged her wings, and her little blonde eyebrows furrowed in confusion._

 

" _What a sorry pair we make, Bel," Maleficent muttered, strolling once more. Her eyes gazed downwards surreptitiously to watch the little halfling who had began to suck at her thumb once more. Feeling more than a little embarrassed at her parenting skills at the moment, she avoided the pathway crowded with courtiers to turn off towards the thicket of trees._

_Isobel wiggled on her hip then, indigo and amethyst wings fluttering impatiently. Maleficent's arm curled tighter against the willful child. "No," she commanded sternly. She didn't have the patience for chasing after the girl who loved to hide for hours in this part of the garden._

 

" _Chanadh," the babe mumbled around her thumb, a frown beginning to grow._ _ **Sing.**_

 

_Unable to stop a smirk from crossing her lips, Maleficent turned her face away. "You mean to barter with your own mother? Tsk," she scolded lightly. And yet, her heart knew she would do anything to see the child smile._

 

_Settling them under the largest tree she could find, Maleficent pulled Isobel from her hip to nestle the princess in a large pool of skirts formed by her gabled legs. "Gu uair ar cliu s'ar gloire, naoidhean bhig..." she crooned. "Ar righinn og, mhaighdean uashaill bán..."_ _**Sun and moon, guide us to the hour of our glory and honour. Little baby, our young Lady, my noble maiden fair.** _

 

_Isobel's smile was brighter than a sky full of stars as she pulled at Maleficent's arms to uncross them, and snuggle closer._

 

* * *

 

The morning broke even brisker than the evening was, and Maleficent had to ruffle her wings several times as she ran fingers through flight feathers to release ice from them. It would take some exertion to get warmth to the extremities. She didn't mind the stroll so much as the time it took – what would have been a ten minute flight took nearly an hour by foot, and the slippery terrain covered in hoarfrost did not help.

 

Exiting the Moors near the Standing Stones, she was caught off guard by the crouching figure of a woman near the Protectors' tomb. Dressed in furs and the clothing of a tribeswoman from the North, she traced fingers over the ogham [3] carvings and then the insular script carved below, her mouth moving silently. Her wide blue eyes tried to make sense of the names she was reading.

 

As the tribal woman mouthed 'Sola Rose,' Maleficent leapt into the air stiffly only to land a short time later, unable to stay aloft for long. Her feet slapped onto the large boulder that signified the border of the Moors.

The woman froze, her hand in mid-translation. Turning ever so slowly towards the looming horned figure behind her, she bowed her head in respect. "Shee-benrein Maleficent? Ren voir aittyn So-la as Ish-bel?"  _Are you the Fair Queen Maleficent, Lady Mother to Sola and Isobel?_

 

"I am," Maleficent replied curtly, squaring her shoulders at the odd woman in an attempt to look intimidating. She'd learned long ago never to guess at the true intentions of humans. "Do you not speak Plain?"

 

An intense look of relief passed over the woman's face, and she stood to face the faerie bravely. Still, she kept her eye contact minimal in an attempt at honor. "I do, bad. If you excuse me, I can talk your tongue." Waiting for permission to continue and seeing no command to either stop or go on, she huffed a nervous, frosty breath into the wintery air. "My King, Onuist of Picti sends glad tidings. I am Tala, ehm... lead warrior to my King. His close-cousin, Nechtan had a sister..."

Impatient to begin her day and rid herself of the wild Pictish subject, Maleficent rolled her palm in the air in a motion to hurry. "Yes, yes..." she prodded.

 

Tala did something unexpected, then. She stared straight into Maleficent's eyes, and the faerie was taken aback by their precise hue. She had seen those eyes before, laid deep into a familiar heart-shaped face.

"You are kin of Caitriona mac Selbaig, correct?" the Fair Queen interrogated brusquely, stepping down to circle around the warrior.

 

Watching Maleficent pacing around her, Tala nodded quickly. "Yes, yes! But no..." she looked conflicted. "I was saying, the old king Nechtan had a sister – Shia. But, half sister. Oh! I am not explain right," she muttered, gritting her teeth. "Shia taken by Northumbria in battle, and gift to your King Stefan. Mac Selbaig..." Tala spat mightily on the ground.

 

Her wings bristling, Maleficent pulled up and glared. "Stefan was no King to me," she interrupted.

 

Wincing at her gaffe, Tala looked down at the ground. "I am sorry, Majesty. Is right to say sorry to you?"

"Not  _technically,_ no... But I do accept your apology," Maleficent granted, the woman's atonement clear. "Continue."

 

Reaching a trembling hand inside her cloak, Tala pulled out a parchment bearing a wax Royal Decree and handed it over with a quick bow. "My King Onuist – he tells you that mac Selbaig in Northumbria. Big army coming, says  _he_ King of..." she gulped. "Of you. Onuist sends army in response. We know... We know he hides Ben-phrinse4 Caitriona from you and Ben-phrinse Ish-bel. We help you find."

 

Stuffing down the urge to scoff aloud, Maleficent looked around her. "How does your King know this? My men tell me none of these tales. And  _what army?_ " she sputtered, becoming more incensed by the minute at the possibility of Tala's story being truth. " _Princess_ Caitriona?"

 

Finding the Fair Queen at a minor disadvantage bolstered Tala's courage for a moment. "Yes, army," she announced proudly, and pointed beyond the ridge before whistling long and loud between two fingers. "Your House not loyal," she whispered as an afterthought.

 

Over the ridge poured Pictish riders and foot soldiers, their blue painted faces cheering in delight at being welcomed. At their helm rode a collection of light cavalry with gleaming armor, under the banner of white with a red hand held in peace. King Phillip of Ulaidh galloped merrily on his mount, passing the mass of bodies and horses with ease to pull up just short of Tala and Maleficent. The others hung back just short of the hillock's rise, and excited murmurs washed over the crowd of men and women. The King of Ulaidh held up his hand for silence.

 

Dismounting swiftly, Phillip's armor clanked as he walked towards Maleficent. He smiled roguishly and bowed before taking his gauntlet off and tossing it aside to offer her a bare hand. "Onuist thought you might be suspicious. After my men and I paid him a visit to confirm the information from my councilor in Northumbria, I rode along," he informed her.

 

Turning towards Tala, the King nodded with a smirk. "I told you – all you need do to find a girl in the Moors is stand around a bit."

 

Tala bubbled with laughter before Maleficent's glower cut it off quickly.

 

"Still looking for girls, after all these years?" the faerie Queen groused with a roll of her eyes, taking back her hand.

 

"Oh aye," Phillip chuckled, rubbing at his dark beard streaked heavily with gray. "You haven't aged a day."

 

"And you are as insufferable as ever," Maleficent bit back, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "But, you need not fight for us. Surely, Phillip – this is..."

 

Phillip puffed his chest out proudly. "It is always a good day to fight for my two favorite girls," he teased before becoming serious once more. "Your fight is mine this time, Maleficent. Northumbria means to overtake both Dal Riata and Picti with traitor's assistance. They and mac Selbaig must be put in their place, once and for all."

 

* * *

1  _Cenél nGabraín –_ Gabrán is the presumed ancestor of the Cenél nGabraín, a kinsgroup which dominated the kingship of Dál Riata until the late 7th century and continued to provide kings thereafter. Pictish Kings of Alba and of Scotland traced their descent through Gabrán to a common ancestor, Fergus Mór.

Unlike the Cenél Loairn (House of the mac Selbaig family), the Senchus Fer n-Alban (List of the Gaelic Kings of Alba) does not list any kindreds within the Cenél nGabraín due to the Royal House dwindling through matrilineal descent after the formation of the Kingdom of Alba. The title 'king of Kintyre' is used for a number of presumed "kings of the Cenél nGabrain" when a Matrilineage-only sucessional line was an unfortunate circumstance in 7th Century Dal Riata. Two royal sites are known: Aberte (or Dúnaverty,) and Dunadd, which lies at the northern edge of their presumed lands on Loch Etive and the River Add. Dunadd is now a rocky crag that may have been one time an island, from which it takes its name. The surrounding land, now largely reclaimed, was formerly boggy and known as the Mòine Mhòr – The Great Mossy Moor.

2 Iníon – daughter

3 Ogham – an early medieval alphabet, used by those who spoke Old Gaelic. Ogham is sometimes called the "Celtic Tree Alphabet", based on a high medieval "Bríatharogam" tradition - ascribing names of trees to the individual letters. The etymology of the word ogam or ogham remains unclear. One possible origin is from the Irish og-úaim 'point-seam', referring to the seam made by the point of a sharp weapon.

4 Ben-phrinse – Princess


	41. An Imeall Dá Deo (The Edge of Forever)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you to all my patient, devoted readers who are still along with mé ón this fantastic ride. Real life has been more than busy these past few weeks, and as Changeling ramps up to its final climactic chapters, I find myself sad to write them! Don't worry though, I will. There are at least five to seven chapters left.
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack-
> 
> "Two Rondos from Danseyre" by Erutan  
> "Path to Darkness," by Adrian von Ziegler  
> "Glass Princess" by Adrian von Ziegler

* * *

 

"Children are knives. They don't mean to, but they cut.

And yet we cling to them, don't we?

We clasp them until the blood flows."

_-Joanne Harris_

* * *

 

Progress back towards the castle through the more populated areas of the kingdom was arduously slow going with an entire batallion of mixed light and heavy cavalry, replete with infantry footmen and banner bearers towards the front. Anticipating such, the combined mass of Picti warriors and Ulaidh soldiers had set out well before first light, riding and marching through the snowy, frigid highlands.

At first, Maleficent had ridden towards the front to better assure frightened travellers they came across, as well as citizens in the tiny hamlets that dotted the countryside. After four hours of doing so, she was relieved to find that runners had gone ahead to warn those along the Queens' Road that the advancing army meant no ill will, and was led by both she and King Phillip of Ulaidh.

 

Even so, the faces that they passed were a mix of wary, scrutinizing, and worried. Tongues wagged loudly over the early morning market exchanges, making normal trading far more acrimonious than usual. Ever the jokester, Phillip had offered to pay the difference in price between two women haggling over a pheasant. They had taken to tugging the poor animal back and forth, drawing quite an amused crowd.

It was not amusing whatsoever to the faerie who rode astride a stallion far more skittish than she ever recalled Diaval being in this form. Her typical mount had belonged to Caitriona mac Selbaig, and the dark mare spent enough time around Airgid that it was possible she might understand the way of things. The animal beneath her now was of two minds of whether to throw this fearsomely horned and strange winged-human from its back, or to cower in defeat and plod along as requested.

 

Commotion - over a game bird, of all things - did not help ease Maleficent's own worries, nor her horse's agitation. It meant that the people were becoming anxious, and it did not take much to send peasants into a panic once they'd reached the fitful state of squabbling over food.

 

Noticing this, Phillip trotted up the side of the men and women warriors to bring his dapple grey steed alongside hers. Fatigued from staying up late to discuss strategy and rising more than early for the journey, he did not think much ahead except for wanting to ease her obvious discomfort. In his attempt to grasp at the reins and give her stallion a good tug in reminder to behave, his gauntlet brushed alongside Maleficent's hand.

The iron sang and glowed orange against her skin, and Maleficent gave a hissed gasp before dropping the reins altogether to cradle the hand to her chest.

 

" _Damnaigh sé, [1]_ Maleficent," the King grumbled, a scowl masking his typically affable countenance. He couldn't very well go simpering about in front of his loyal men, even for a woman that meant as much to him as the Fair Queen. "Keep his head about him, and he will mind!"

A sharp intake of air whistled through Maleficent's bared teeth; both for the insulting nature in which Phillip was addressing her, and the pain that throbbed in her hand. "Shall I remember that when thinking of you?" she snapped.

 

Their tones becoming anything but mildly cordial drew a raised eyebrow from Tala, who rode just aft of the first line of light cavalry. Her expression was mirrored by Phillip's head knight, leading the heavy cavalry on his war horse. The knight cleared his throat, and looked as if he'd swallowed a bone in an attempt not to laugh aloud.

 

Snatching the reins back up when Phillip did not answer straightaway, Maleficent turned her frothing, frightened horse away and towards the rear of the army. The stallion chose this moment to trot over the ice, tripping and bucking alternately, but she allowed it.

If he felt anything like she did at this moment, she might very well have agreed and soothed him with magick. However well that would have been, the animal was not a familiar, and she was resigned to merely tightening the hold of her legs to stay astride. Falling ungracefully from a fidgety horse in front of army and country folk alike would be gossip fodder for ages, and the very idea made her grimace even more deeply.

 

Well aware that he'd caused the faerie both physical and emotional pain, Phillip groaned and turned his own horse to follow. It would not do well to see Aurora for the first time in near two decades while on the wrong side of Maleficent. He had never conversed directly with the Fair Queen in the many letters that had gone back and forth between their kingdoms, but his emissaries had always told him that the Queen was well kept in joy and complete adoration by the faerie. For this, he owed her many debts over. Aurora had rarely spoken of strife in their relationship while writing her personal missives to him, but Phillip was no fool. Having been married long himself, he knew that appearances were seldom all they seemed.

If what his councilors and advisors gathered from Dungal mac Selbaig's bragging in Northumbria were true, the once-shy and innocent Princess Isobel had suffered an insult beyond comprehension. It didn't surprise him that she'd gone blithering mad.

 

Seven hells, King Stefan had disfigured Maleficent grievously, and it had torn every bit of goodness and light from the woman.

 

Mac Selbaig wasn't very inventive with his maneuvering; and yet, the man might have done it on purpose to remind Maleficent of that awful day. He couldn't have ordered the betrayal to be any more similar, unless the hired men sent had burned Isobel's wings off as well. Nay, they but left her to perish in agony beneath an iron net.

The mental imagery made Phillip shudder visibly as he rode silently next to Maleficent. The woman was studiously ignoring him, and for that he could not blame her. Still, his eyes wandered the proud, sharp angles of her cheekbones that peeked around the frame of her head while her back was turned.

 

Phillip had never seen Maleficent with her hair unbound before, and momentarily wondered at the multicolored hues of it. How many names for brown existed? He was sure they were all present in the wavy tresses. The sun emerged from the clouds to burnish the golden and auburn highlights in stark contrast to the mahogany and senna hues, and for a second the spellbinding beauty distracted him from the memories of King Stefan.

But a second was all he had, for Maleficent turned her face towards him once more. In those eyes, Phillip could sense an eternal sadness. It was well hidden behind annoyance and general displeasure, but there nevertheless.

"What on Earth are you looking at?" Maleficent muttered so quickly before turning away again that Phillip wasn't sure if he'd misheard.

 

He realized then that the expression was the same gloomy resignation he'd seen when King Stefan bound her in an iron chain and spun her along the floor like a corn husk dolly that awful night in the throne room, all those long years ago. She'd screamed in pain, certainly – that horrible sound and the smell of burning flesh and tapestries had drawn him to the battle from the castle corridors – but the faerie's sorrow pervaded all else. Surrounded by the poisonous, magic-weakening iron, what else could she have done but surrender into the welcome arms of death until Aurora had set her wings free?

Ashamed for allowing his pride to get in the way, Phillip slipped his gauntlets off and tossed them aside. The expensive, well wrought hand and wrist protectors clanked against the frozen ground along the highway, and he turned his gaze back to the faerie he'd insulted. "My apologies," he beseeched, not bothering to care who heard him now.

Something Phillip thought he'd never see in his lifetime happened, then.

 

Maleficent stared at him, tilting her head by a degree before her eyebrows softened and eyes became half-lidded in empathy. Perhaps she was trying to understand what he was feeling, or why. Maybe growing older and having children of her own had softened those harshly glittering eyes that seemed as if they could strike a man dead from miles away.

It didn't matter so much to him how he'd garnered such a look from the faerie, but Phillip knew he'd never be able to forget it. "I do not mean to quarrel with you, especially when you're quarreling with Aurora," he hedged.

 

It was no secret to any of the nobility that the two Queens fought almost viciously over the well being of their two children left alive. Servants talked, and councilors assumed much.

What most didn't know was that Isobel  _was_  the White Witch that the lands alternately feared and nearly worshipped. She'd already gained quite the following in Picti, where they had been told that the Ban-draoidhe Bàn [2] sought revenge for the ill-treatment of their stolen Ben-phrinse. [3]

Phillip would hazard a guess that the only nobility that knew  _that_  particularly well kept secret were himself, Maleficent, Aurora, Onuist, the filthy mac Selbaig, and the King of Northumbria.

 

As quickly as Maleficent's look of mild affection came, it went; replaced by an intensely affronted expression replete with edgy glowering. "Aurora and I do not  _quarrel_." The word made her think of the farmers' wives that constantly nagged and squabbled with their mates.

Choosing his words well as they were surrounded by many ears, Phillip lowered his voice to barely above a whisper, "Good woman, all couples argue and disagree through their many years together." He knew that Maleficent heard him when she frowned, and closed her eyes.

 

"An argument is not the same as a disagreement," Maleficent retorted sharply under her breath. Her wings stiffened, their horns curling over her shoulders. She felt something akin to embarrassment at Phillip's well-meant line of questioning, and it sorely vexed her.

Of all people in the world that she would have liked least to have a discourse regarding her marriage to Aurora, it was him. Phillip, who had kissed upon her Queen's lips before she did - years before, even – and thus his sympathetic words burned in her gut before she took a calming breath and opened her eyes.

 

The King if Ulaidh seemed to consider her irritation and posture for a few beats before stroking at his beard once more, a tell that Maleficent had noticed meant he was deep in thought, rather than merely spouting off at the mouth. "How so?" he entreated gently.

Sparing a glance around them, Maleficent pulled her horse up short to walk a good five yards behind the closest solider. She waited until Phillip did the same.

 

"Humans call things so many names, the words lose their true meaning," she began, musing her lips in deep thought while trying to explain. "What you might call a disagreement, to me might be the deepest hurt I've known in years, because you are not me. Therefore, you simply cannot comprehend it. Call it what you will – a fight, a quarrel, an argument – you would need to have been there to have a glimpse of the truest description of what happened."

 

"Or, you could just tell me," Phillip quipped with a smirk. "But you won't. This, I know."

 

At that, Maleficent huffed before she rolled her eyes. "Certainly  _not_."

 

* * *

 

The guards of Dunadd Castle stood sentry at every arrow slit and rampart as they watched the advancing men and women marching over the crest of the defensive motte. [4] The army had just about reached the town center. Once they did, it was a short ride to the wall.

"They're comin'!" the constable hollered down to the sergeant-at-arms, who passed the message to pages that scampered through the outer bailey like mice.

 

At the top of the entry tower, just over the main gate, the doorward [5] shielded his eyes against the blinding winter sun. It was setting low along the horizon now, and from experience the man knew that the hour was just short of three in the afternoon. It must have been a quagmire of mud, ice, and snows for the assemblage of knights, foot soldiers, horses and pack animals that made their careful way into the town.

As the clip-clop of hooves began to hit the cobbles that lined the Queens' Road a mile or so away, he lit a well-soaked tar torch from the Keep's flame and went along the rampart wall. Those in position along it did the same, until the top of the castle glowed with welcoming light.

 

Down in the yard, there was a disturbance. The man looked down, and saw Queen Aurora and the Princess Luna standing at the inner bailey's entrance to the castle keep.

Several nursemaids argued incorrigibly loud amongst themselves and the combined Ladies in Waiting, in hopes that Queen Maleficent's daughter would heed their advice and go back indoors. Instead, the stubborn girl waddled her way into the yard like she owned it. The Queen followed at a leisurely pace, her face impassive and cool.

 

A crooked, gap-toothed grin came over his face at the Princess's persistence. Most women carrying as big as she would have long begged to begin their confinement, but at just over the beginning of her sixth moon with babe, she still accompanied her Lady Mother to all meetings and feasting. Most of the nobles saw too much of Queen Maleficent in her behavior and looks, but the lower and middle classes adored the miniature hellion. Though she'd only been in residence a short time considering, it made her all that more mysterious and special.

She was plucky, just like them. 'A fine mix of beauty and tenacity, as she ought to be,' the aging gentleman asserted in his mind.

 

It was a right shame that she was heir only to the Moors, and not to the Two Kingdoms outright; but the councilmen and Lords would not be convinced without a boy to place on the throne.

He sneered then, his dislike for the upper class evident. They thought the peasantry so dumb; the "High Lairds" that would seek to destroy the peace of their great home.

A male child running 'round the castle would be a pleasant change, to be sure – but they only wanted a boy so that they might control him. It was easy to lure a boy from his Mother's influence, far easier than leading a girl away. But then, where did that leave the Prince Consort?

Unease coiled in the doorward's stomach the more he thought about what happened inside the keep, and focused again on the Queen in the yard.

 

Runners sped into the outer bailey towards the head page, who then scampered to the herald and his pursuivants [6] with a scroll.

The herald held the scroll aloft, and took a large breath before belting out the names of those in attendance. "Her Royal Highness, the Fair Queen Maleficent with his Grace the King of Ulaidh, Phillip first of his name. They lead emissaries and knights alike from his Grace the King of Picti, and from the Houses of Ulaidh to aid to your Royal Highness in the defense of our great kingdom!"

 

Queen Aurora cut him off with a wave of her hand, and a glare. She was so short-tempered as of late, the herald expected it. He tried his best not to look too crestfallen at his duties being excused.

"I have eyes, man," she laughed.

The laugh was cold, and Princess Luna turned towards the Queen with concern.

 

The monarch's shining blue eyes searched the crowd of arms bearers and those of class allowed inside the bailey as they poured in, but did not seem to find the one she was looking for most. As time went on, her gaily colored wings fell lower and lower until their edges dragged onto the muddy ground.

That drew the attention of Princess Luna, who bent over to preen her Lady Mother's wings, and chided her with such a biting wit that it sent the Ladies in Waiting into unabashed titters.

"Luna," the Queen warned gently, sounding every bit the age she did not look. "Please, do not fuss."

The princess nodded curtly to the Queen, and concealed a wince as she stood upright again.

 

At long last, the King of Ulaidh and Queen Maleficent rode through the gate, followed by a wild-looking Picti warrior woman that they seemed to trust. The doorward sighed in relief; now, their Queen of Roses would smile and be happy once more.

 

He was more than surprised – shocked even – when the faerie Queen dismounted a rather unruly steed and did not clasp Queen Aurora in welcome. She stood apart, looking pale and on guard, and merely shook her head.

Princess Luna's face crumpled from proud to sobbing within seconds, and leaned into a shushing nursemaid who looked mightily confused.

"Oh, I'm just-" she sniffled. "-I'm just happy to see you, Mother."

She launched into the tall faerie's open arms then. The Fair Queen hugged the Princess as close as her belly would allow, which wasn't much.

 

Queen Aurora's lips trembled as she pressed them together, and she curled her tiny hands into fists before spinning on her heel to walk back inside the keep.

Just as she reached the door, she paused and looked over a shoulder. "Hullo, Phillip," she sighed, and headed inside without much ado.

 

The entire display and lack of etiquette set the servants on edge, and they looked questioningly at one another for confirmation that what they had seen was not a hallucination.

 

King Phillip looked on in apprehension before realization came to his face.  His face twisted into amusement before he slapped a strangely bare hand onto his armored leg. "Ha!" he chortled.

 

Queen Maleficent turned towards him, her eyebrow raised in challenge. Anyone worth their salt knew that look, and it didn't foretell of anything remotely pleasant. The only expression that she might make worse was if her teeth had been bared in a chilling grin.

 

Seeming to sense this as well, Princess Luna grasped her mother's hands and rubbed them reassuringly. "Now, Mother-" she began to wheedle.

 

"A quarrel, is a quarrel... is a quarrel!" the King interrupted as he patted the Fair Queen's shoulder in such a familiar way that the staff around the bailey stopped to gawk.

 

Either that, or to witness Queen Maleficent having a go at the King of Ulaidh. She did just that, lifting the edge of her wing to whack at his arm before sniffing haughtily, and entered the keep.

* * *

 

High in the boughs of an evergreen tree, a heavily cloaked maiden sat shivering. Her teeth chattered, even in fitful sleep. One looking on might have mistaken her for a girl, but this was not just any girl.

She was a faerie; broad, downy wings wrapped like a cocoon around her gave that fact away, and she was very far from her home in any of the magickal Moors that dotted Dal Riata, Picti, Ulaidh, and Brittania.

 

The noise of her restlessness drew the attention of the woodland creatures, and they sniffed cautiously at the base of the tree. Animals had an affinity for the Fair Folk, and knew that a faerie would often give their last scrap of bread and go hungry to feed a starving beast instead.

Carrying on in her sleep, the faerie alternately mumbled and shouted at unseen visitors that seemed to taunt her to move along. "I'm hungry, Soso," the girl cried out, her filthy blonde hair shaking as she trembled. "North. North, always north you say."

 

A few yards away, dry twigs snapped beneath the weight of a boot.

Violet and sapphire wings popped open in time with the frost-rimmed eyes of the faerie, and she leapt from the tree with a hiss towards the intruder.

 

"Easy, Bel. Easy now, it's only me," Alexander whispered, his hands held out in both a calming manner, and in defense.

 

The Seelie Prince looked his mate's sister over and was astonished at what he found. He attempted to hide his shock with a well placed gulp, and by shifting his eyes for a moment, but Isobel was too keen to be fooled.

 

She hissed viciously at him, and gnashed her teeth. Her bare feet were caked with mud, but it did not slow her graceful circling around Alexander as she held up her own hands, glowing menacingly in a halo of green.

"If you were not the mate of my sister, I would have loosed the spell already," she spat harshly through lips as white as the skin around her once-beautiful face.

 

The vision before him shook Alexander to his core. If one had not seen the Unseelie Queen in person like he had during a too-close call while trouping with his Maimeo as a youngling, they might have been fooled into thinking his Màthair-chèiles' [7] little imp  _was_ her. It was a good thing that most people knew that Mabh had died the same day as their precious Princess Sola. 

Even under all the layers of dirt and grime, Isobel's hair shone a dazzling white-silver, streaked only with her Mama's golden in a few places now. Had the iron net not branded her sweet face with ghastly pink lines, the skin would have been as fine and bright as the newly fallen snow.

 

Put together, the picture it painted was most disconcerting.

 

He'd always known that Isobel was considered fair in her coloring, but this was a mite bit out of the ordinary – even for a faerie. Maleficent's black feathered leather cloak stood out like a sore thumb against the ethereal beauty that still radiated from Luna's dearest sister and friend, and yet it seemed to fit.

 

Isobel was cloaked in darkness.

 

While quelling a shiver from running down his spine, Alexander wiggled two of the fingers on his right hand. "I have food, Bel. If you'll just allow me to reach inside my cloak, and into my doublet pocket-"

 

"You think me a fool, Alexander?" she seethed, her eyes narrowing in a dangerous display of her ire.

 

"Of course not!" the Prince snapped back, his temper becoming shorter by the minute. She could strike him down any moment, but here he stood like an idiot; and for what? He'd convinced himself nightly that he cared for the girl's well-being, but her state of mind was far worse than even he had imagined.

Though he had wanted to aid his Màthair-chèiles in bringing Isobel home, Alexander wanted to live to see the end of the day, and his child born.

 

Sensing the indecision, Isobel struck. A spell poured forth from her hands, enveloping Alexander in an eerie glow until he fell to the snowy ground with a thud.

 

You bind your own bràthair-cèile [8,] woman?!" he griped, offended and embarrassed at being caught off guard. He wiggled around, unable to stand to run or fly away from her advancing steps.

Isobel did not answer, but stood over his prostrate body with sheer rage swirling in her eyes. Her freezing hands felt over his doublet and snatched the stale bread from within before flapping her great wings to thrust Alexander deeper into the snowbank.

 

"I'll not go back. Tell them!  _Tell them, Alexander!_ " she shouted into his face before launching into the air.

 

As the entire reason he'd spent wandering the highlands for over a month flew away over the forest canopy, Alexander laid temporarily paralyzed in the snow bank and cursed fouler than the ferryman to the Isle of Mull.

 

"That was the last of my bread, you ungrateful wench!" he howled. "Go bhfuil tú do mháthar iníon, mé mionn é! Cailleach!" [9] 

 

When only the wind answered his insults by whistling through the trees, the typically dignified Prince allowed himself to moan aloud in pain, and defeat. "What shall I tell your Mother now, you naughty beast?" 

Maleficent would need to fetch Isobel herself, that much was clear. Alexander's heart grew cold at the the very idea of what may pass between mother and daughter on that horrible day. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

1 "damnaigh sé!" – damn it (Irish Gaelic,) this dialect would have been spoken by someone from Ulster.

2 Ban-draoidhe Bàn – White Witch.

3 Ben-phrinse – (Insular Old Celtic/Gaelic) Princess.

4 Motte - A motte-and-bailey castle is characterized by a stone keep situated on a raised earthwork called a motte, accompanied by an enclosed courtyard, or bailey, surrounded by a protective ditch and palisade. The motte could be a natural rock formation such as a cliff, as well.

5 Doorward - an office in medieval Scotland whose holders, eventually hereditary, had the theoretical responsibility of being warden of the castle door.

6 herald and pursuivants – A royal or official messenger/announcer. He arranged tournaments and other functions, announced challenges, marshaled combatants, etc., and who was later employed also to arrange processions, funerals, etc., and to regulate the use of armorial bearings.

A pursuivant is a heraldic officer of the lowest class, ranking below a herald. In training, if you will – or born to a lower class.

7 Màthair-chèile – Mother in law.

9 "Go bhfuil tú do mháthar iníon, mé mionn é! Cailleach!" - (Scots Gaelic) You are your Mother's daughter, I swear (an oath to) it! Ugly, awful woman!


	42. Dhéanamh ar Mian (Make a Wish)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Notes at the end of the chapter this time around! ;)
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack:  
> "Awakening," by Secret Garden  
> "Passacaglia," by Secret Garden  
> "White Spectre," by Adrian Von Ziegler

Long hours of feasting had left Luna exhausted, and longing for Alexander's company. She missed her mate terribly; his warm smile, and confident nature in the face of troubles. Moreso, she wished for his experience in the matters of love, and his reassurance.

Watching the tightly wound tendrils of hurt that swirled in Maleficent's eyes whenever Aurora avoided her gaze had set Luna to worrying.

 

All evening, the King of Ulaidh had teased and made merry to bring forth smiles that showed Maleficent's fang teeth. The smiles never met her eyes, though. Those eerie, knowing fathoms had turned to acknowledge Luna's staring before blinking rapidly. The bleakness therein was matched only by Aurora's stolen glances.

Hard as they were to notice by the courtiers, Luna caught them. The gloominess made her wings itch with a sense of foreboding. Mother was dangerous when heartbroken. Of all people to break her heart, Mama could do it.

 

And so, she spent most of her evening convincing herself that it would never come to pass. Surely, two such in love as her mothers could overcome anything, even the hurt between them. Theirs was true love; it was spelled out in the legends, and would remain so for all time. They would win this battle, as they always had. Somehow, Isobel would be brought home, and healed. The advancing armies from Northumbria would be turned away by the might of the joined forces of Picti, Dál Riata, and Ulaidh.

Luna would birth her child in peace.

No matter how resolutely she believed that, the coldness that passed between her mama and mother this evening would not leave her mind. Those around them in the great hall must have thought the Queens tired, or perhaps troubled by the oncoming battle and inevitable bloodshed – the second such event to occur in just two years.

She knew better. It was wearing both women down to rule this human kingdom.

 

The brisk Winter air had done nothing good for her mother's countenance, nor her mood. The more the night wore on, the more haggard Maleficent became. She'd excused herself at least an hour before the festivities were set to conclude, feigning that she was weary and wanted to retire.

It was no surprise to Luna that Maleficent would want to escape the terseness between herself and her mate, nor did it surprise her that the matriarch of their family would seek out a place to hide from the raucous noise of their guests.

 

Once she had descended countless flights of stairs into the belly of the castle, Luna relished the hot, moist steam in the air from the washrooms' boiling cauldrons. At the end of the hallway was a room meant for bathing – a leftover vestige of Roman occupation. However odd the humans found the custom now, Luna knew that her mother preferred to do so there. When Sola had been alive, all three sisters had bathed in these waters together. It was a lovely memory, and Luna rubbed at her chest when her heart clenched.

Maleficent often called the human fashion of sitting in their own filth to wash a 'stewpot,' a practice she found quite unnerving. She also claimed that the deep pool of water, warmed from a spring beneath the castle mound, reminded her of the loch in the Moors. So, when the human staff had no idea where their horned Queen had made off to after being outside for just over a moon, Luna had laughed aloud.

 

She chuckled again upon entering the large, vaulted room. Maleficent lay face up in the water, her wings stretched out to make lazy waves in the water as she floated. About to pop a joke about her mother being unaware of her arrival, Luna decided it would be better to enjoy the rare sight of Maleficent enjoying herself.

Her hair was unbound, and fanned around her head and body like a dark curtain atop the water. She wore only her under-chemise out of modesty – most likely in case someone barged in by mistake – but the bath made it cling to the point of being useless to that intent. Her middle was becoming softer as the years wore on, and the thought of her mother becoming just as soft made Luna's cheeks pink with contentment.

 

As she walked closer to sit upon the upper stairs leading down into the bath, Maleficent's eyes popped open. Her body submerged beneath the waves quickly, and she warily regarded her daughter.

"Have you come for a bath, too?" she questioned, the tone of her voice too casual for the frantic way she'd hidden beneath the water.

"Mmmm," Luna hummed, and tilted her head. "You don't have to hide yourself from me, Mother. Though, I've no idea how you managed to stay so well fed flying all about the kingdom and sleeping in trees for a whole month."

 

Maleficent didn't answer her with the usual cutting wit that Luna had grown accustomed to. Instead, her mother frowned at the offhand comment, and sunk deeper into the waters.

"Mother..." she chided. "This is not the time for a game. I'm worried about you."

 

Still, Maleficent did not move towards her. "I am not playing a game," she intoned, her voice carrying over the echo of choppy waves against the stone walls. Looking just as wary as when Luna had arrived, she swam farther into the pool before relaxing again.

Luna might have been young, but she was keen about secrets and intrigues. They had surrounded her since the moment she was born.

 

Her mother was trying to avoid being seen. If she were embarrassed – which Luna knew that Maleficent rarely was – she would have acted far angrier. A blush would have come to her sharp cheekbones, and she might have hissed. The older faerie was doing none of that now.

While crossing her arms over her belly, Luna sat up a little straighter. If she appeared childish or apprehensive, there was no way her mother would entertain the idea of telling her anything. Her pout turned into a frown, and wings curled above her shoulders like a shield. "What on Earth is going on, Mother?" she whispered sharply.

Mild offense glowed in Maleficent's eyes as she rolled them and swallowed back a curse. "I am not _overfed_ , Luna."

 

Maleficent had not wanted to reveal the reason her robes grew tighter around her abdomen so soon, but knew it was unavoidable now that her eldest daughter's curiosity had been piqued. However, such news might be received in a negative fashion by Luna.

Though their relationship as mother and daughter was filled with love, it had been so very short with regards to time. Luna had only been with she and Aurora just short of two years, her feelings of abandonment only recently smoothed over. More likely than not, the princess would feel supplanted.

Besides, if her figure was any clue, Luna was just weeks away from giving birth. Maleficent did not want to overshadow any of her daughter's joy – even if it was with her own.

 

The silence between them had allowed the cogs to turn in Luna's mind, and she checked off a mental list of the many reasons that could explain her mother's condition. None of them were good news, except...

"You cannot be... are you? But that's - Mother, are you truly?" her face glowed triumphantly with the realization.

"Yes," Maleficent nodded, her expression still cautious.

 

Without warning, Luna stood up and twirled around in giddiness. "Well, that's cause for glad tidings, not for sorrow!" Her babbling and laughter rose in volume as she danced around, wings shivering with delight at the prospect of there being another young princess or princeling.

When Maleficent did not exit the bath to join in her mirth, Luna abruptly composed herself. She considered it strange behavior for a woman to be sad or apprehensive about a baby. After all, her mother told her that she and her mate had long wished for another wee one. That is, unless Maleficent had only told Luna what she wanted to hear.

 

Turning towards the bath again, fear began to creep up her spine. "But then, why ever are you hiding it? D'you-"

She took a deep breath, and rubbed at her own stomach when the babe inside kicked and furled. Luna's voice hitched upwards, as if to hold off tears. "-D'you not want it?"

 _'Like you didn't want me,'_ was left unspoken, but both women heard it in their hearts.

 

The mood swing made Maleficent wince, and her chest burned with the need to justify her actions. This was what she'd feared most: that Luna would equate her reasons on waiting to tell Goddess and all about her condition with how the girl came to be in the possession of Queen Mabh. They weren't correlated whatsoever; but the pain of their separation was still fresh in Luna's heart – especially now that she knew the love a mother had for her unborn.

Her ruse well sussed out, Maleficent sighed and frowned. There was no point in staying in the warm spring waters any longer, loathe as she was to leave the comfort.

 

Treading over to the bath's edge, she climbed back out to stand as regally as possible in her soaking wet chemise. It felt silly; this was Luna, after all – her flesh and bone knit into life. Still, Maleficent's body eschewed the inborn indifference for nudity (or near nudity) when she felt vulnerable.

"Oh, my darling girl," she murmured, and reached out to caress the edge of a wing so like her own. "Of course I want it. It's just that there are so many other things occupying my mind now. Aurora is very unhappy that I've not brought-"

 

Shrugging her wing away from her mother's gentle touch, Luna then sniffed back her tears. "-Aye,  _Isobel_. I know she is displeased that you didn't bring her back. But, don't you see?"

The faerie princess turned a tear streaked face to stare up at her mother, and her lips trembled. "If you keep this from Mama, it will hurt her all the more. If you tell her, she will have reason to be  _happy._ "

 

Even through her tears, the equal amounts of fear and love that shone in Luna's face had Maleficent staring. If she'd looked away, she would have looked back again in an instant – if only to see the precise expression reflected once more.

It was Aurora's face at this age, and the shocking similarity had Maleficent's stern brow growing softer by the second. The sharp angles of her face gentled, and she reached up to cup Luna's face in her palms.

"When you despair, you look just like her, you know..." she whispered, and wiped a tear from her daughter's rounded cheekbone. "Do not despair, mo leanbh, [1] please. I shall tell her, in my own time."

 

Unused to being compared to her fairer haired mother, Luna rubbed a finger behind a sharp ear and felt a blush cross her cheeks. She considered that it was a strange thing – looking like Maleficent, but with Aurora's temperament. Unfortunately, that left Isobel stuck with her mama's coloring, and with her mother's tortured soul. Thinking of her missing sister made her want to cry once more, and she feared that she could no longer hold back the tears.

It was a mess, their lives. It had the chance to be a jolly mess, but only if the members of their family stopped biting at one another and started being more supportive. Earlier, Luna had been concerned that it would be Aurora doing the breaking of hearts, but unless Maleficent came clean, it appeared that it would be she.

 

Desperate for the comfort of her mother's arms, and wanting to show her support just the same, Luna launched herself at the older faerie. Wrapping her arms around Maleficent's waist, she hugged as close as she dared.

It was more of a sideways embrace, due to her large belly. As if sensing her relief, the bairn snuggled itself forward to join in on the affection between mother and daughter.

 

Maleficent felt the movement, and chuckled low under her breath. "Only a short time now, hmm?" she reminded, and ran her hands soothingly over the wings that curled beneath her own.

"Don't remind me," Luna smarted back as she cracked a timid smile. "I've no idea how to birth, or how it will go. Will I labor like a human, or like a faerie?"

 

Tugging Luna closer, Maleficent pursed her lips in amusement and rested her chin atop the head of silky brown hair. "Either way, I shall be there. It will be alright, I assure you."

Luna resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and pulled back a bit to hover a hand over her mother's abdomen. "Says the woman who will probably enjoy every moment of her laboring," she pouted. "Your parents were both Fae, and you carry a faerie's wee one."

Golden wisps of magic glowed and floated forth from her palm, meeting a responsive, if not joyful arc from Maleficent's stomach. "I've no idea how I didn't see it the moment you came home. How did you even...?" The question trailed off, and Luna blushed furiously.

 

Maleficent smirked at the playful exchange between the soul nestled within her and Luna's essence. Her mouth felt dry at discussing such things with her daughter, however knowledgeable about the ways of the flesh she was.

"First off, I was  _clothed_ when I arrived back," she retorted, and then became serious once more. "There was a morning a few moons back," her voice cracked at the reminder of both the beauty and misery of that day. "Alexander brought us breakfast, and I threw it."

"You... threw it?" Luna chortled.

Clearing her throat to stall a moment, Maleficent sought a way to weave the delicate explanation. "Yes, well. Your mama went to get some more from the kitchen herself, and-"

 

Luna's eyes widened as she pieced the ritual together. "She got food from the humans! You must have already, erhm," she exclaimed, and waggled a brow.

 

"Luna Aibhlinn..." a long-suffering groan passed from her mother's lips, and the faerie held a hand to her forehead.

* * *

 

There was nothing more infuriating to Sola at the moment than her numpty [2] of a sister.

Of course,  _at the moment_  to the spirit could mean  _today,_  or  _next week_. Though she hadn't quite mastered traveling where she was needed precisely, she had been practicing - much to Maimeo's displeasure. [3]

 

If Isobel didn't find Caitriona soon, she would need to do it alone. Sola didn't have much more time before becoming earthbound. It was becoming nearly futile; the darkness had shut Bel's ears to Danu's sweet words of guidance, and to most of Sola's words as well.

"Would'ja listen to yourself? I'm here! I'm in yer heart!" she pleaded, floating along next to the half-crazed, half-starved White Witch herself. "There is help just a little farther north, Bel!"

 

Sola had found the small group of Picti druids and their adherents while following the call of her own heart. The Goddess whispered that this was all meant to be, and while that was all well and good, she could barely understand how.

Was Danu not offended that the Picti druids sought to worship Bel like some sort of Goddess herself? Did Bel's wheel of fate being fulfilled mean more to the Gods than their proud and terrible egos?

She could feel her energy wavering, having stayed by Isobel's side for most of the waking day. The filthy, wild eyed faerie had muttered that she understood to go north, but didn't seem able to see Sola.

 

The tension between their soul connection grew closer to a boiling point the more Sola tried to push. "Listen to me, you must'nae hurt them when you see-"

" _I know!_  You keep saying north, and north I go!" Isobel cried out, and tugged at her scraggly hair. "Cait is  _not_  north, and my heart knows this. Why do you insist on leading me astray?"

 

The suspicion and accusation of betrayal in her own twin stung worse than the any irritation Sola had felt thus far. She wished that her hand was corporeal, so she might smack sense into Bel's head. Unable to do so, she flew forward in a fit of anger.

An icy gust of wind hit Isobel's cheeks, and she growled in the direction of the burst.

 

Gasps echoed the clearing she walked in, just past a line of trees. Holding out her hands in defense, Bel hissed in warning to whomever hid themselves beyond the fir and pine.

Two older men cloaked and robed in the manner of the draoi [4] rushed forth from the copse of trees. Throwing themselves at her feet, the wizened humans then hid their eyes behind one hand, and shook their beards full of amulets and beading at her with the other.

 

As if carved gems and stones could ward off Isobel's ire.

 

"Le do thoil, ben-phrinse! Gceist againn aon dochar," [5] the eldest groveled. "Sí Cé atá Airde orduithe sí dúinn. Cabhróimid!" [6]

Withdrawing her hands beneath the black feathered cloak, Isobel stared with a haughtiness so vain it nearly repulsed the red-haired spirit by her side.

 

A grin curled her alabaster lips over even whiter teeth.

 

" _Excellent."_

* * *

 

1\. mo leanbh – (Gaelic) my baby. Can be used literally, or if coddling someone as you would a baby.

2\. Numpty – (Scottish slang,) Air head, idiot.

3\. Maimeo – (Gaelic) Grandma, a term of endearment.

4\. Draoi – (Gaelic) Druid.

5\. Le do thoil, ben-phrinse! Gceist againn aon dochar – Your pardon, princess! We mean no harm.

6\. Sí Cé atá Airde orduithe sí dúinn. Cabhróimid! - She Who is Most High commands us to your aid.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you need help piecing the hows and the whys of Maleficent's condition together, message me below and I will be glad to lend assistance. You could also jump back a few chapters to re-read the scene between her and Aurora before Alexander... ahem, interrupts. All the elements of the ritual set forth in the beginning of the fic are present, right down to the white gown. Did Aurora mean to do it? Well, you'll just have to wait and see!


	43. An Cath Laistigh Dúinn (The Battle Within)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, readers! First of all, I want to give a HUGE thank you to all who have supported me through the minor hiatus that I had to take from Changeling in order to complete Peccatum in Carne in time. Changeling is officially off hiatus, and you can expect your normal weekly update from here on out until this tale is finished. That being said, Happy 1st Anniversary to the Maleficent Fandom! 
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack: 
> 
> “Prophecy,” (The War Room) and  
> “Dawn of Fate,” (Luna) both by Adrian Von Ziegler

 

“ **Then is the hour of expectation ; for if, according to the old philosophy,** **nature abhors a vacuum, the void she most abhors is the absence of all action.** **The heart of every living thing is ever asking, “What next?” and the deepest conviction implanted in the mind of man is that want of activity is extinction.** **Fairies, well known for their inaction and dislike for change, are at equal odds with these principles; filling the void for they are of Nature herself,** **but consistently nearing complete and utter extinction of their race from man's action.”**

 

\- _The Last of the Fairies,_ George Payne Rainsford James

 

* * *

 

 

Faoilleach1 blew its harsh, icy winds against the leaden glass windows of the palace at Dunadd, and thick gray clouds outside brewed snow within until they could no longer hold back the onslaught of fluffy precipitation. It heaped in piles tall as a grown man around the inner bailey yard, and the banks were said to be even larger outside the castle walls. Commoners wagged their tongues even worse than before, superstition and tales of etching their bones with cold foreboding. A pair of mydwifs was staying within the royal household; the Queens afraid that they would not be able to come fast enough from town, should they be needed. Their presence was of comfort to those immediate to Aurora and Maleficent, but the other nobility and gentry holed up until better skies prevailed were set on edge by the women that straddled the world of man and magick, wielding a craft as ancient as the birth of the world itself.

 

Nearing dusk, the hallways leading to the royal residence rooms were eerily silent for all the people present in them. Maids crept past the room where the Princess Isobel supposedly stayed locked within, frightened beyond their wits of the crazed girl inside – she that would dare to injure her mother the Queen with magick and hand alike. As they walked towards the door at the end of this particular passageway, the handmaids were even more cautious in their attempt to stay quiet as church mice.

 

Here the heir to the Highland Moors was abed – much to the Princess Luna's consternation. Heavy with child beyond all comprehension at only seven moons, the handmaids and other servants wondered how much more the slight woman could take. The mydwifs didn't appear worried – keeping Luna as still as possible to conserve her energy for the task ahead – though the handmaids knew that a mydwif rarely looked worried until things were quite dire. Instead of fretting needlessly, they plied the Princess with concoctions well known to the womenfolk of the castle to ease her boredom and aches in these last days of her pregnancy. White willow bark could cause the impending labor to be prolonged, or to cease completely. Birch leaf was better, but it being the middle of winter, the herb was becoming increasingly hard to locate. The days when errand boys came back from the apothecary empty handed were easier to spot by far, Luna lamenting her discontent quite loudly at kept cooried down until a visit from one of the Queens cheered her spirits.

 

Tonight, a hearty feast of eeles in bruet2 and cabbage was served with gyngerbrede3 for glad tidings – the better to keep the Princess sleepy with heavy food, and the guest courtiers inside the palace nibbling on sweet things rather than sour words. Within the war room, the Queens and the visiting King of Ulaidh had retired after supping. The Prince Consort of the Highland Moors joined them, ever as dour and anxious an expectant father could be. The great room with windows lining the far wall for the best views of the valleys leading to the Moors was shut up tight against the prying ears of the servants, but there were always ways to eavesdrop. Inside the wall, a scullery maid sat next to a page, their ears straining to hear what was happening inside so that they could spread the information to the peasantry.

 

Unlike the gentry, the smallfolk loved and trusted their monarchs, but being kept abreast of such matters of state required some delicate maneuvering. They were troubled about the impending battle with Northumbria and the traitor MacSelbaig, and for good reason. A goodly part of their adolescent and adult men had perished in the winter battle against the Unseelie Queen and dark faerie armies just over two years prior. It was no wonder that the King of Ulaidh and the King of Picti sent their warriors to Queen Aurora's aid now. Dál Riata didn't have the sufficient numbers to stand against Northumbria, and the famously brutal Saxon tribes' conscripted soldiers sent from Cumbria, in the south of Britannia. The southern kingdoms had set their eyes on the north, and the north was banding together to halt the onslaught.

 

Through the cracked open side-door in the wall, the onlookers could spy in relative safety from behind a tapestry. Craning their necks to see round, the maid and page could see the King of Ulaidh pacing in front of the roaring fireplace, a hand smoothing down his beard repetitively. He was either in deep thought, or nervous. Perhaps it was both.

 

“They've been held off by the weather – that much we can thank the heavens for,” Phillip groused, his voice gruff and tired. Gulping a bit of wine from the tankard in his hand, the man wiped at his mouth with the back of his sleeve before sighing. “They'll be a mite bit fatigued, especially once they have to transverse the highland ridges and hillocks in these storms. Colder than a witch's ti-”

 

“And your men? Are they prepared to fight in these conditions as well? I know that Onuist's warriors are used to the freezing temperatures more than those from the southern isles,” Maleficent interrupted, twisting a blade between her hand and a talon absentmindedly. It sounded as though she already knew the answer to the question for all she was paying attention to Phillip, and merely sought to cut short his tirade.

 

Queen Aurora knew her consort's ulterior motives, and moved to squash the interlude in the conversation. With a thinly veiled look of reproach towards Maleficent, the golden haired woman cleared her throat. “We've already been over this; several times in fact. Is there nothing more that we can do to prepare? To protect what is rightfully ours, and-” the Queen's voice cracked, and the hand that rested atop the war table tightened into a fist. “-and our daughters'?”

 

Shaking his head and giving a slow shrug, King Phillip then gestured towards each of the Queens with his chin. “Not any more than skirmishing in the yard and preparing the weapons and horses. Though, I do wish the two of you would get on with one another, and be civil. It's hard enough to plan out a battle without two hens squabbling all over it. This is why men usually rule...”

 

At the Queens' simultaneous gasps of indignation, Phillip raised a hand for peace and backpedaled slightly, the fire casting shadows around the older gentleman's deeply set blue eyes. “Aye, I speak harsh. But whatever happened to true love conquering all, eh? What good is it to win this battle if we don't have each other's best interests at heart in the end?”

 

“Men rule because they're backed by gigantic armies, and care not for their children's hearts,” Maleficent hissed towards the King, rising a bit from her seat to lean over the table and glare. “They're selfish, and lie their heads off to get what they want.”

 

“Children and lies, lies and children!” the King sputtered back, cursing the gods beneath his breath before pointing an accusatory finger towards the Fair Queen. “You dare to speak of your children's future and accuse the entirety of men the propensity for falshehood whilst keeping your own secrets about the Princess Isobel and being with child from the court and the kingdom! If you would be honest Maleficent, it might give them some hope! Some calm!”

 

The servants counted ten beats of the heart while those in the room they observed stayed stock still at the King's words. Finally, the Queen's face ranged in emotion quicker than they could keep up with.

 

Anger, awe, love, and resolve all steeled together into a stitch above her brows as they raised impossibly high, and a choked noise came from her pert lips. “But I thought-”

 

Prince Alexander choked, himself – though on a large draught of wine from his cup. From the looks of him, the Seelie faerie had partaken in one too many, but nobody dared to foist the drink from his hand. He'd been gone long on a scouting mission, only to return to a grumpy wife tucked away in a room that he could not enter. “Is it so very cold that you don't bother to undress one another any longer?” he jibed.

 

“Now see here, young man,” Phillip protested that particular insult of his friends. “I suspected because she rode the entire way here, and she's of far more heft than usual. There's no need to be uncouth-”

 

While the men argued their mutual distaste for their mutual tactlessness, the stones atop the table began to shudder and glow. Maleficent sat straight as a proud fir in her chair, glowing eyes focused nothing and everything at once. It was clear that she was more than unsettled, and sorely embarrassed to boot. Ire gnawed its way across her strangely beautiful features, rendering them sharp and frightening.

 

Even so, Queen Aurora reached a hand forward, taking Maleficent's hand from the table. The darkly garbed faerie had gripped the edge so roughly in her state that her hand left marks behind, talons miring the fine grained wood with grooves. This didn't stop Aurora from cradling the willowy palm in hers, soothing as best she could with a light touch of her thumbs. “Oh, Maleficent...” she cooed softly as much as she rebuked. “Why did you not tell me?”

 

The gentle tone of the Queen drew the attention of Maleficent's cat-like eyes from the war table, and towards her mate. With a trembling breath, she met Aurora's stare before closing her eyes against the world for a moment.

 

“You allowed me to send you out there, all alone in winter,” Aurora whispered, her fixed gaze turning glassy with unshed tears. “You didn't complain, not once. Why ever did you not say no?” The Queen's voice trembled with the realization of her actions, and she shook Maleficent's hand within her own as if to draw an answer to the unanswerable. “My love,” she sobbed once, regret clouding her lovely blue eyes into a shade worthy of the storm clouds outside.

 

“See what you've done?” the King of Ulaidh demanded of the Prince, flourishing a hand towards the Queens. “You've upset your Queens.”

 

Alexander leaned back as if struck, and barked a laugh. “Oh-ho, my good King! Nay, it was not I who called my máthair chéile hefty.” To this he laughed even harder, and took another swig of his wine. “D'you know what I would do, though? Since nobody has bothered to ask me, I tell you now. I would do what my Daideo did hundreds of years ago.”

 

Walking towards the table, Alexander flicked at each stone representing the Kingdoms of Man, toppling them over with great joy. “To the seven hells with the humans that want these lands so badly! I say we abandon them to their bile, to rot without blessing or guidance. I say that leave anon, and go to Faerie!”4

 

“Alexander!” Queen Aurora shouted, her eyes wide with shock at the suggestion. Still holding Maleficent's hand, she rose to square off with her son-in-law. “We cannot simply leave them behind!”

 

“And why not, sweet máthair?” the Prince dared, sweeping the marker stones aside and thrusting a finger atop where the Moors lay on the map. “We take the Land with us with the Concealment.5 There will be naught left for the greedy humans to fight over, except sheep! We can raise our children in peace... for all time!”

 

Quiet for a few moments of contemplation at the Prince's suggestion, King Phillip then placed his wide-spread hand over the map – covering Dál Riata, and Picti. “Abdicate, and allow someone else to take the throne? Someone chosen by those left behind?”

 

“Absolutely not,” Aurora retorted, and shook her head vehemently. “We have not worked this hard over two decades for nothing. The Moors have flourished under Dál Riata, and vice versa under my rule. What of Isobel, and her human love? Did you forget about them in your intemperance, Alexander?”

 

Crossing his arms stubbornly, Alexander grimaced. “She took my damned bread. Leave her with the humans, since she loves them so much. The Picti seem to think she shites sunshine and rainbows, like a fookin' leprechaun. Just wait 'til they see what she's become-”

 

With that, Maleficent's eyes shot open to glare daggers at the Prince. Standing her full height, the servants swore that the Fair Queen was even taller in her rage. “Enough! In your foolishness, all that you can see is awondrous future ahead – _you_ , the destined hero of a charming fairy tale come true, the heir of _Faerie._ But we are a family, Alexander. We do not scheme for our own betterment against the fate of our own _here!”_

All present opened their mouths to argue the point, but they were all forced to shut them just as quickly when a nursemaid burst into the room. “Your Grace! My Queens!” she huffed, out of breath from her exuberant run.

 

Training her face into polite calm, Queen Aurora motioned with her hand for the woman to continue. Maleficent's expression was impassively cool as usual, but Alexander's face twisted between elation and concern.

 

“It's the Princess Luna! Come... please!” the mydwif's assistant pleaded, her smile a beam of sunlight to break the gloom shrouding the room only moments before. “'Tis a miracle like none other!”

 

* * *

 

 

Inside the room they all crowded, though Phillip stayed a respectable distance away, nearest the door. As he looked around, he noticed that there was none of the usual evidence of birth having taken place. There were no blood-stained rags, no steaming tubs of water. The birthing stool sat unused in the corner, a younger mydwif resting in it as though she was caught in a most glorious daze.

 

The elder mydwif tutted to herself as she arranged the pillows behind the Princess, her face deeply etched with wariness. Still, she kept up with her soothing of the new mother, showing Luna how to hold the baby against her chest to keep it warmest, after wrapping it in a fine blanket. The babe's head poked out of the swaddle, nearly bereft of hair. What was there appeared to be delicate as silk, and dark as the night, crowning the baby's ruddy, healthy skin. It didn't cry, but made happy noises at its mother, to which Luna responded with her own nonsensical coddling.

 

Stranger yet was the appearance of the Princess. Nary a hair strayed from her long, wavy braid of dark hair, and her cheeks glowed as though she had been out in the summer sun all day. There were no leftover tears dried to her cheeks, and Luna's eyes shone as bright as a spring dawn.

 

In his confusion, Phillip could hardly contain himself. “What happened here?” he questioned, the wonderment in his own voice alien to his ears.

 

For his part, Alexander ignored the question, but sidled up next to his wife in the bed, unbridled joy and love surrounding them in an invisible cocoon.

 

Maleficent had the good sense to answer him, at the very least. Gliding across the bedchamber with light steps, she still only had eyes for her grandchild at this moment, and placed a tender hand atop the bairn's head. “The Princess births like a faerie, Phillip.6 'Tis normal for our kind,” she whispered sternly, as if to challenge any other explanation. “She _is_ mine, after all.”

  
Aurora studiously ignored him as Alexander had, wrapping an arm around her consort as their wings knitted together in what looked like the closest embrace Phillip would ever bear witness to without feeling impropriety.

The elder mydwif crossed herself, and motioned for Phillip to do the same. “Your Grace, 'tis the curse of Eve that a woman should bring her children into this world with great sorrow. Of human women that don't, their children are often given a hard life, full of the sadness that their birth was denied. I fear for your child, Princess.”

 

“Hush now, woman!” Phillip gaped, and waved a hand. If such a thing had been said at the birth of any of his children, there would have been no convincing of his small counsel to not charge the mydwif with cursing, and treason. “Are you mad?”

 

“She giggled and laughed the entire half-hour labor sire; as though it t'were a simple task!” the old woman protested. “I've ne'er seen the likes of it.”

 

Shaking her head and giving a wry smile, replete with a twinkle in her eye, Luna reassured him. “King Phillip, it is alright. It is nothing that we haven't heard from human mydwifs for centuries, especially when called to our court to serve,” she babbled what history she knew from her time at Mabh's court of the Unseelie.

Cuddling the child close to her chest and placing a kiss on its forehead, the Princess leaned back and gave a deep sigh of contentment. “Let it be known that my Presyne7 shall know nothing but happiness all of her days. I swear an oath to it: as long as I live, no armies of man will _ever_ hurt my daughter.”

 

Leaning against the wall, Phillip was dizzy at what he was seeing and hearing. Such a statement from any mother was to be expected, but the way the words spilled forth from Luna's mouth, he actually believed it. A mother's protection was its own sort of magick, he knew. This magick was real, and he had felt it deep within his heart.

 

The Princess would spill her own blood to ensure the well-being of this child, until her very last breath.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

1 Faoilleach – (Gaelic) The month of January;

2 Eeles in bruet – a fish stew originating in Italy, but popular in England, Scotland, and Ireland for their readily available stock of eels. It contained eel, onion, water, bread, white wine, parsley, pepper, and salt. The bread was used as a thickening agent, and strained out at the end of cooking.

 

3 Gyngerbrede – Medieval Scottish gingerbread “cookies” were more like gingerbread crackers during this time, and rarely contained ginger itself – a scarce commodity spice from India and the Mediterranean. Instead, the Celtic and English peoples of the 12th-14th centuries utilized black pepper, cinnamon, and red sandalwood for spicing a dough made of stale wheat bread crumbs mixed with honey before baking.

4 The Land of Faerie/Fairyland – A place unseen by human eyes, some say on another dimension. Time works differently there; great swaths of time passing for each year in the human realm. While in Faerie, the Fair Folk do not age, much like the slowed aging experienced in the Moors and other protected lands under their rule on Earth, except that the aging process is paused in totality. A faerie residing in the Land of Faerie could then conceivably live “forever” to a human's understanding.

5 The Concealment – Also called The Pact in some cultures. When the humans first defeated the Fair Folk and overthrew their rule in favor of human leaders, the Fair Folk withdrew to protected Lands and to the Land of Faerie, taking with them much of their magick, and leaving the previously inhabited lands barren. Over time, the Fair Folk have concealed more and more of their lands from humans, and their ignorance. Some say it was a punishment.

6 Fairy Births – The Fair Folk do not birth like humans. Rather than with great sorrow, they bring their young into the world with great joy and beauty. Besides the tale of Melusine's mother Pressyne forbidding her husband the King of Alba from seeing her in childbirth for this reason, we have an account from Sweden: “A clergyman's wife in Swedish Lappmark, the cleverest midwife in all Sweden, was summoned one fine summer's evening to attend a mysterious being of Fair race and great might, called Vitra. At this unusual call she took counsel with her husband, who, however, deemed it best for her to go. Her guide led her into a splendid building, the rooms whereof were as clean and elegant as those of very illustrious folk; and in a beautiful bed lay a still more beautiful woman, for whom her services were required, and who was no other than Vitra herself. _Under the midwife's care Vitra speedily gave birth to a fair girl, and in a few minutes had entirely recovered, and fetched all sorts of refreshments, which she laid before her benefactress._ The latter refused to eat, in spite of Vitra's reassuring persuasion, and further refused the money which the Fair-wife pressed upon her. Vitra then sent her home, bidding her look on the table when next she entered her hut and see what she would find there. She thought no more of the matter until the following spring, when on entering the hut she found on the table half a dozen large spoons of pure silver with her name engraved thereon in neat letters. These spoons long remained an heirloom in the clergyman's family to testify the truth of the story. A Swedish book published in 1775, contains a tale, narrated in the form of a legal declaration solemnly subscribed on the 12th April 1671 by the fortunate midwife's husband, whose name was Peter Rahm.”

7 Presyne/Pressyne/Persine – A beautiful faerie who married the King Elynas of Alba (Scotland.) In time, Pressyne grew heavy with child. During her pregnancy, she made one condition to which King Elynas had to agree that he would not see her while she was in labor. However, in his excitement when he heard that she was giving birth to triplets, he rushed into the birthing chamber to see his new daughters, ignoring the taboo. As a result, a very unhappy Pressyne had to leave the kingdom forever, taking her three daughters with her to the lost Isle of Avalon. King Elynas mourned the loss of his family for seven years; his son, Nathas, by his first wife, became the king.

The three girls, Melusine, Melior, and Palatyne grew up in Avalon. On their fifteenth birthday, the eldest, Melusine, asked why they had been taken to Avalon. Upon hearing how their father had broken his word, forcing them to leave the kingdom, Melusine sought revenge. Together with her sisters, Melusine captured Elynas and locked him, with his riches, in a mountain. Pressyne became enraged when she learned what the girls had done to their father, and punished each of them for their disrespect. Melusine was condemned to take the form of a serpent from the waist down every Saturday. Despite this, Melusine became the fairy Queen of the forest of Colombiers in the French region of Poitou and married the nobleman, Raymond of Poitiers. Her children included the King of Cyprus, the King of Armenia, the King of Bohemia, the Duke of Luxembourg, and the Lord of Lusignan.

 

 


End file.
